Geass of Deception
by Manthor
Summary: The Diamond Lotus has always watched from the shadows. Ever since the sacrifice of Lelouche, they have sought him, refusing to believe the tale of his death. For they seek to once more unite the three; the Code, the Geass and the Mantle.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

The men and women sat around the table, ornate oak leaves and intricate carving unnoticed to the naked eye carved into the cypress wood of it. They were people of great standing and power, people who wielded vast influence in the media and financial sectors. Each of them masters that had earned the right to the Mantle, through struggle and hardship.

In the new world order that had arisen in the years since the Empress Nunnally had ascended to the throne of Britannia, new nations had formed as the people rebuilt their homes, ruined by years of war and the oppressive rule of old Britannia.

They stood up in unison as the grand master entered. He walked with a confident gait, the grace of centuries of living visible in his indomitable stride. He sat down at the head of the table, noting the presence of all assembled.

"So...it's true then, what's been said?" a woman of Arabic descent asked, tone uneasy. Her name was Rania, a Palestinian woman from the ancient city of three religions. Ancient Jerusalem, the crossroads of Christianity, Islam and Judaism. She was among the first of the masters, easily more than a thousand years of age, though she didn't look older than 30.

"That Lelouche vi Britannia is alive? Absolutely. Were he here I would applaud his cunning but as the case is now, we need to find him first" the grand master spoke easily, face calm and collected, eyes unreadable.

"That means that the Code still exists doesn't it? That the power of Geass still endures?" a large man spoke rapidly. Perhaps too eagerly, for the grand master squarely met his gaze and looked at him intensely, eyes boring into his mind.

"And why would you be so eager to learn more about the Code and the 'Power of Kings', the Geass, Amshel? We're here to observe and to act as we see fit. No more. No less. We observe as we've done for centuries. That is the way of the Diamond Lotus."

"But why else seek him if not for his power?" the man called Amshel asked once more, eager to press his point. He continued. "With it, we can change the world, put ourselves in a position where we may dictate the terms we best see fit. Surely you can see that Alamgir! We have the Mantle. For centuries the Code and the Geass have been beyond our reach but by uniting them with the Mantle, by controlling them, we can create our own utopia. It would be -"

"Enough" Alamgir spoke softly, the force of his voice filling the room. Alamgir considered the options inside his mind. Even after all these centuries there still arose from the council a master whose youth and impetuosity tested his patience. He hadn't learnt, even after a century of life.

Alamgir had walked with legends, in the time of Charlemagne and the Ottoman Empire, his memories stretching even further back still, to times when as a youth he'd sat at the feet of Gautama Buddha himself. To the trek with the prophet Isa, known to the Brittanians and Europeans as Jesus as he walked toward his destiny, the fated crucifixion upon the hill of Golgotha. To times when he'd sat at the feet of Plato himself.

Ageless eyes met Amshel's and he saw a fiery ambition, so unlike the others. The others he'd selected and granted the gift of the Mantle, for as the grand master of the Diamond Lotus it was his charge, to seek and to grant those who could live in the open, forever watching humanity, its follies and triumphs.

The hidden side of history that no one else bothered to follow was theirs to observe and record. In times of great crisis, only then did they act to protect their interests, their agenda, which was none other than humanity's survival. In his long experience, he'd seen many things. And now, in the eyes of the Brittanian he'd made a master, he saw a terrible ambition.

He would watch Amshel for now. Living for so long had forged his patience into a weapon, an accumulated reservoir of experience and memory that granted him knowledge beyond human ken. That he ever, if rarely, acted against rogue masters caused many people to underestimate him abilities. For when he did, with the power of the Mantle, he left no witnesses or survivors.

"Amshel, there is a reason why the three are kept separate. Have you ever heard of the Ulthaj? Of Azaluhaiz the Sleeping? Perhaps I will tell you the tale of the man who taught me all that I knew, who passed onto me the Mantle of the Diamond Lotus. His name isn't important, for he had many names. People knew him as _En Sabah Nur_, the '_First Light at the Break of Dawn_'. It was he who made me grand master in his stead. But it is also a story for another time. For now, even immortal, we must live in the present, and time demands we leave soon. I have a flight to catch and this was meant as a short conference. Now our agenda..."

**WWW**

As they left the room Rania came up to him, looping her arms through his. He responded, embracing her around the waist. They'd been friends for centuries, occasional lovers for the past decade and confidantes to the other. It was a comfortable intimacy that engendered no discomfort.

"Your nephew is the agent looking for our lost little emperor I take it?" Rania asked wryly, a grin on her face. "How's he doing?"

"He's doing as well as could be expected. It seems that like his mother, he wishes to contribute to the greater good of society."

"He's a doctor?"

"No. He spent a good part of his youth fighting for the Indian Resistance. After they formally became an independent military and joined up with the Black Knights, he decided to leave and pursue his dream."

"And that was?" she asked inquisitively.

"A teacher."

"So he's at Ashford now. Lelouche's old school. But why?" she asked, slightly puzzled.

"Because my dear woman, Kallen Kozuki, the former ace of the Black Knights, is also a teacher there. If you remember, six years ago I was involved in observing them. Quite an interesting dynamic that Lelouche had with all those women around him. A man worthy of being emperor who wasn't corrupted by that power like so many others. VV and CC with their Geass Order maintained the balance while I watched. Both have known me for as long as they have lived and not once did I intervene as they played their games with Charles and Marianne, with all the Geass users before. He is an interesting man and I intend to find him."

"True. But I want to know how he survived? How did you find this out? And why do you wish to find him?"

Alamgir smiled. "Now that is a question for you to find out, and for me to hear your answer. Perhaps over dinner tonight at the Ascott?"

Rania smiled. "Always the charmer like your brother. And yes, I accept the offer of dinner."

Alamgir grinned roguishly. "Great. Because you're the one paying"

**WWW**

Kallen ran her hands through her hair, utterly irritated as she looked at the marks. Were her students actually that _stupid_? She'd dropped enough hints about the test yet they hopelessly picked all the wrong answers.

She looked up at the photo of her and her comrades in their uniforms, a small smile coming to her face. She wasn't part of the the Black Knights any longer, for this wasn't a world that needed war. Lelouche's sacrifice had made sure of that, fulfilling the dream he'd had for Nunally. In the end he'd saved everyone but himself.

Like Nunally, his death had him her hard for she hadn't realised the depth of emotions she'd held for him. Only later, as she'd watched Nunally's coronation as Empress of Britannia, with Princess Cornelia, Prince Schneizel and Zero at her side had she realised how much she'd loved him.

For to have hated him as much as she did, for all his betrayals and manipulations, she had to have loved him. Hate wasn't the opposite of love. Apathy was. Had she not loved him, she'd have not cared a single iota as he'd died. Or shed tears for him as she did. As a piece of her heart had disappeared.

But she did. She'd moved on and lived, respecting his sacrifice and memory. As he'd told her, just before Rolo had rescued him; _"You must live _on." Those whispered words which she'd kept in her heart all these years.

As her eyes wandered across the montage of photos pasted on her desk, a nagging thought scratched at the back of her mind. She had an appointment today. She was supposed to do something...Then it her. With a screech she leapt up and raced for the door, alarming her colleagues in the staff room. She was supposed to pick up her godson from daycare.

**WWW**

She raced through the halls of Ashford Academy in a panic, taking stairs three at a time as she sprinted to the car park, barely avoiding the students as they rushed from class to class. She'd totally forgotten to pick him up and now she desperately ran, hoping to get a taxi to Shinjuku as fast as possible. David Ohgi, son of Kaname Ohgi, the Prime Minister of Japan and Viletta Nu, a vice-commander of the Black Knights, was her godson.

Needless to say, cute and all of 4 years old, he absolutely adored his godmother, Aunty Kal and she could do no less for the precocious youngster than by picking him up and bringing him ice-skating. The fact of the matter was that being a teacher with a schedule like hers (e.g. being the Teacher-in-Charge of the Swim Team Soccer Club while trying to teach Higher Mathematics and Physics) simply caused her already cluttered mind to overflow. It was rather like a buffer overflow on a Microsoft OS, except it was happening to her mind right now.

In her hurry she slammed into something or more likely someone and sent both of them sprawling. Muttering desperate apologies, she picked up the scattered contents of her handbag and looked up, coming face to face with Navin.

He was the latest addition to the staff, the new history and physical education teacher who'd been charged with whipping the sophomore history class into shape after their rather dismal performance the year before.

He was also a handsome man in his early 20's, just like her. Though for all his looks, his orientation was hotly debated among the other women staffers of Ashford and some of the men. He was handsome in a slightly classical sort of way, eyes a deep chocolate colour with an aquiline nose and skin a light shade of cocoa tan, with lips...

"Kallen, are you okay?" he asked worriedly and suddenly the spell was broken. Kallen shook her head in embarrassment, realising that all the time, she'd been staring at his face. What was his name? Navin. Yes. That was it.

It got even redder as she realised how close their faces were to each others, his soft breath tickling her nose. Rising rapidly, she accidentally head butted him and sent him sprawling once more. Clutching her hands over her mouth, she apologised profusely as she helped him up.

Groaning, he nodded in acceptance. "What's the rush Kallen? You look like you're running from an axe murderer?"

"I'm so sorry Navin. I'm really sorry. But right now I'm in a rush. I'm late to pick up my godson and-"

"I'm actually headed out to buy some lunch. Maybe I can drop you off. Right now getting a taxi is hopeless and with traffic as it is...well, I'll give you a lift there. How about it?" Navin asked, smiling lightly.

"I'm headed to Shinjuku Mall. That's where -"

"I'm heading to get some lunch. Given that you've caused me to fall head over heels for you twice, first by collision then by a head butt, how about you buy me some lunch while you're over there?" he asked cheekily.

Without even considering Kallen accepted as she hurriedly nodded, her frazzled mind not taking in the words while he handed her a motorcycle helmet. Hopping onto the back, she checked the time as he revved up his bike and sped out of Ashford.

It was only later as she went over the conversation, hands firmly gripping the seat of the motorcycle that she gave an inwards groan. She'd just unexpectedly turned the entire episode into a lunch date.

**WWW**

Lelouche woke up gasping for air, clawing at his blankets, seeking something...anything to save him. The nightmares came to him. Fragments that cut and stabbed at his sleep, ever since that time.

_His surroundings were warm, enclosing. Comfortable. It was like a watery womb that enclosed him. Then he began to see the lights, the flashes that overtook him. Memories came to him of being stabbed. He felt the blade as it pierced his skin, cutting through muscle and flesh and bone._

_The warm flow of blood as it escaped from the wound could be felt. He felt the blade pierce cleanly through, severing his spine. And then, he fell. He heard vague words, the chants of "Zero!Zero!" echoing in his ears. He heard Nunally's plaintive cries. He smiled.Everything had gone as planned. He felt a warm hand enclose his. Nunally grasping his hand, crying for him._

_Memories of a dark place, of a place where he had met those he had killed, had been responsible for. Shirley. Rolo. Marianne. Charles. VV. But then from that peaceful oblivion a vast force had pulled him, a being of light who'd drawn him out of the realm were none were alone, saying only that his destiny lay unfulfilled._

_But always, it came back to Nunally's crying. To someone else crying..._

"She was crying for me" he whispered before he felt the warm arms embrace him. CC...no, that was not her true name. Her name...

"Lelouche, were you having those nightmares again?" Caramia whispered softly, strands of green hair concealing her face. She began to sing a soft lullaby,a song of her childhood. A song that had been sung to her as a child by her mother, its words soft and lilting. When she had been cursed with her Geass to 'be loved', yet never knowing its the warmth and happiness of true love, deceived at the very end by the only woman she'd ever trusted, she who'd 'gifted' her with their contract. But this song...this song was born of genuine love.

Until she'd met him and her life had irrevocably changed. She had desired to die until he'd made her promise not to do so, at least not until he had made her smile. And make her smile she did. For 700 years she'd wandered the world, forever distanced from those around her, in her heart always seeking to fill the void within.

When she'd met Lelouche, that void had been filled, until she saw his final plan. His plan to die. But by then it was too late to stop him. She'd cried as he fell from his throne, the masked Zero, the Knight of Zero, claiming his place as Nunally's knight, as Lelouche had always planned.

Then _he_ had come to her. Founder of the Diamond Lotus, the one of many names. The one who'd granted Alamgir the Mantle. The first immortal who'd walked the world when humanity was young. He who had crafted the first temples, the master of the Code and the Geass. En Sabah Nur. The man who had witnessed the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, who had taught Plato and Socrates, who had fought side by side with Alexander the Great as his general and counsel, Kratisteros.

And he had come to her as she sat upon the rock, looking out upon the ancient Swiss castle where she'd been born a slave girl, bastard child of a nobleman and a serving maid. And offered her a choice of happiness. At first she had been suspicious but as she listened, a hope she'd thought lost long ago resurfaced in her heart. And he had seen into the well of her heart and smiled, fulfilling her wish unconditionally.

He'd brought back one of the few men she'd ever come to love. Lelouche. Her contractor. Her partner. Her warlock. Her lover.

_"If you're a witch..then I'm your warlock. We're accomplices"._

And then one day she'd found him, shivering in thin clothes in a field of white flowers, the wind whipping at his body. Distraught and panicked, the man she'd admired for his indomitable will and moral strength, who had paid the ultimate consequence for his ideals had looked at her and broken down, unable to carry on any further.

In the darkness that came she felt the familiar presence and looked to the horizon, seeing a speck on a distant hill. _En Sabah Nur_.

**WWW**

She looked at his sleeping face, peaceful once more. He was slowly getting better, able to once more face the world. After she'd found him she'd nursed him back to health, running a small inn in the Swiss Alps near Geneva as the chef and part-time housekeeper. After all, 700 years of life taught one how to survive and gave her plenty of time to learn. With savings of gold she'd hidden away as well as money cunningly invested in a hundred different ways she was able to ensure them a comfortable existence.

She suddenly sat still as she felt the flutter in her womb, the kicks of the child within. She gave a slight smirk. Now _that_ had been a surprise. Those who possessed the Code could give birth and have children, though only once in a decade. For obvious reasons she avoided such a thing happening, not wanting the attachment of a mother to a child, not wanting to have to be separated from it by mortality.

But quite unexpectedly _he _had dropped in one day, asking for a small drink. Smiling away with a glint in his eyes, he'd left them as she closed up and afterwards, as she and Lelouche had slowly made love, his lips caressing hers, as their skin slid across each others and he released himself in her, she thought nothing of the tingle that ran down her spine, his fingers slowly stroking her soft skin.

But a month later and after several bouts of morning sickness, she'd done a test and found much to her utter shock that she was pregnant. En Sabah Nur it seemed, had a twisted sense of humour. Not that she minded at all. Lelouche on the other hand...had been rendered utterly speechless for at least a full hour, dazedly staring at her the entire time.

Leading their quiet life and maintaining their happiness, Caramia thought nothing of the fact that sometimes, happiness like theirs wasn't meant to last.

**A/N**: Just a pilot chapter to test response and also to look for beta readers. There will be sexually explicit situations later on so be forewarned. It also deals with mature content with supernatural themes. So if you're an interested beta reader, feel free to sign up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

Kallen tightened her hold around Navin's waist as he took a corner at speed, the motorcycle narrowly dodging a passing car. She'd told him to hurry up and get there ASAP, the end result being that she was regretting it. She'd yet to know that on weekends he was a motocross racer, spending entire mornings just hitting the dirt with his motocross club, drifting around corners with practised ease.

Bringing them to a halt, tires screeching against the tarmac as she hopped off and raced to the daycare centre. She passed through the cosmopolitan crowd, dodging and evading passerbys with reflexes testament to her skill as an ace of the Black Knights, now put to use in a race to reach her godson.

In the back of her mind she realised how Japan was now a country of minorities, with Japanese the biggest minority in their own homeland at just under 46 percent while Brittanians composed a full quarter of the entire population, the rest being composed of a mix of Indians and Iranians. The pale Japanese butter-toned skin mixed in with Indian browns, Iranian tan olive and Britannian creams that made for a very interesting melting pot.

She heard someone running behind her and before she knew it he'd shown up besides her, keeping pace with her. "_One of the few guys who can manage it_" she mused silently. She wasn't in charge of the staff athletics team for nothing, having led them to the Tokyo championship against other elite schools just last year.

She burst through the crowd as she slammed through the door in the daycare centre, scaring the living daylights out of the receptionist. Panting heavily, she bent over, hands on her knees as she breathed in desperately.

"Is...my – nephew...here?" she managed to pant out before a tornado composed mostly of a small boy slammed into her and toppled her over.

"Aunty Kal!" David uttered, hugging her fiercely around the waist. The son of Kaname Ohgi and Viletta Nu, he had straight black hair tinted with streaks of silver, with the aristocratic cheekbones of his mother and her amber eyes combined with his fathers angular intensity. Half-Britannian and half-Japanese like Kallen herself, they were kindred spirits in blood and behaviour.

"I've never seen any woman run that fast in heels" said Navin commented her, panting as he recovered from the sprint through the mall.

"Why did you follow me?" she asked, giggling slightly at the sight of the dishevelled man, leather biking jacket askew.

"You owe me lunch" he said evenly before giving her a smile.

"Aunty Kal, whose your boyfriend?" David innocently asked, before an awkward silence filled the air between the two, Kallen not sure what to say. Navin had a daredevil grin and caused the boy to break into laughter with a grin as he answered in his Indian-accented voice.

"I'm her taxi driver. She owes me a meal."

**WWW**

"So..." Kallen asked as they sat in the bistro, David occupied with filling in a colouring book, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Is this a date? If you want it to be but hey, I just wanted a free meal" Navin said as he sipped down his tea.

"Then why did you end up paying for everything?" she said, smirking at Navin.

"Perhaps because I _wanted_ to ask you on a date? After all, its not everyday that a guy whom people think is gay falls head over heels twice for the same woman" he replied, that same cheeky grin as before appearing on his face.

"So you knew about all the talk about you?" she asked, slightly embarassed. With her busy life, Kallen simply didn't have time for dating. She'd been in a relationship with Gino for about two years before leaving the school. They were still good friends but their aspirations had been too different.

Gino had gone back to being a member of the Knights of the Rounds, the personal bodyguard of Empress Nunally, while Kallen stayed in Japan caring for her mother and training to be a teacher.

She knew she was considered _very_ attractive by most of her male colleagues though they maintained a friendly distance, many in awe of her reputation as a war hero. It was hard to find a guy who wasn't _intimidated_ by her and though she had many good male friends, none of them had ever made a move. .

"Its quite hard not to overhear gossip about your sexual orientation in the staff lounge Kallen. Though where they got the idea I was homosexual...I have no idea."

"Perhaps it had to do with the fact that you were running naked around the campus except for some leather bondage gear, being chase by the Equestrian Club while they wielded _whips_?" she deadpanned.

His face broke into discomfort at that point as he covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat.

"Hn. It was the History Department's way of initiating me. We were having some drinks in the student hall with the Equestrian Club seniors and things...got out of hand." he muttered apologetically.

"So how are you liking Japan? I mean...you're new to the school and have only been here a month. Where were you originally from? I mean, obviously with the war and everything..."

"I grew up in India, in Cochin actually. Not much to say there. Always nice and warm, rather humid. But I like the weather in Japan better. Japanese are very polite and its quieter here. India...well, its big country with a lot of places and hell,its chaotic. The sounds, the smells...you need to live there to understand. It's nice and quiet here in Japan but sometimes...too quiet. Pros and cons but I enjoy it here."

"Just out of curiosity, are you of mixed blood? I mean, you don't look totally Indian."

"I'm Eurasian like you. My dad was Indian, a Malayalee of Kerala province. My mum was French. It's like how you're half-Britannian and half-Japanese. No big deal really."

As they talked, Kallen warmed up to him. In fact she found herself enjoying his company immensely, David quietly sitting and attending to his colouring books, leaving her in peace to enjoy some adult conversation.

So far her life had been hectic ever since she left the Black Knights, maintaining only reservist status when she went in on weekends to train on her Guren Mk II to keep her edge. It was a routine of managing students and school activities, taking care of David, meeting up at Tamaki's bistro with her old comrades, looking after her mother...and that was about it. She sometimes went on speed dates or blind dates but nothing really came of them.

**WWW**

Before she knew it Navin had to return to Ashford, thought not before he'd bought David and her a double chocolate banana split sundae as a parting gift. Smiling and waving as he left, she suddenly realised the entire time that he'd been one paying for everything.

"So it _was_ a date" she muttered to herself. She shook her head in disbelief at the guy. But then again, she'd given him a bruised eye from her head butt so she did owe him _something_. Generally she made a policy of avoiding relationships at work, keeping a polite distance and maintaining her professionalism but life as a teacher generally precluded her from socialising. In this case...she didn't mind making an exception.

"_Ah hell. Why not? He's cute anyway" _she thought to herself as David tugged her along by hand, headed towards the nearest game arcade. She readied her nerves in preparation to gun down uncounted demons, David making a beeline for Doom 2100. She doubted Viletta would have approved.

**WWW**

Navin stretched out in his chair, stretching his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.He had only a vague idea why his Uncle Alamgir had asked him to do this, to come to Japan and take a job at Ashford. He'd urged him to take it on as a way of expanding his horizons.

Kallen was an attractive woman to be sure and he knew all about her history with the Black Knights, as its ace second only to Tohdoh and the commander of Zero's personal squadron back when they'd been a simple rebel group.

He'd worked with them in the past when he'd been a combat diver and an elite K-Frame pilot serving with the then Indian Resistance Navy on the submarine carrier Agni, now the flagship of the Indian Ocean 1st Armada of the Black Knights Peacekeeping Task Force. Kallen had even rescued him once, though he doubted she'd remember.

As he turned back to his desk in preparation to grade the assignments he felt his cell phone buzzing. Flicking it open he received the message and smiled as he read it. So she wanted to meet for coffee during their lunch break tomorrow?

Replying with a yes, he suddenly punched his fist in the air, a grin on his face. Kallen was _asking_ him out for coffee. A girl he happened to like. A _very_ attractive girl. He couldn't remember when he'd last dated someone, having been off the scene for the past 2 years since his last relationship.

"Well mum and dad, what do you think?" he asked the photo of his parents, a reminder of better times, when they'd been alive. His parents had been killed in one of the purges by the Chinese Federation of the Indian Resistance when he'd only been 7. Ever since then his uncle had raised him.

They stood among a collection of Warhammer figurines, towering daemon princes against massive armoured space marine dreadnoughts, fighting in epic dioramas. He gave a faint smile at the memory, long hours of his childhood spent with Uncle Alamgir in childish glee, both of them laughing like loons as they assembled it together.

His parents silently stared back, as if smiling in approval. Navin sighed in relief. If anything, at least meeting her for coffee would help put to rest the rumours of his homosexuality. He'd already received several love letters from a fair portion of the student body, many of them from the male portion. The incident with the Equestrian Club had left an impression on Ashford Academy's student body and faculty.

He had nothing against gays and in fact had many close gay friends. But he simply didn't swing that way. For now he'd take it slow with Kallen. He'd been in relationships before but this was the first time he'd actually had that sort of chemistry with any girl. He just felt...comfortable around her.

A sudden insight came to him then, as he realised a reason as to why his uncle had told him to leave India and come here. To finally be free of the baggage of his past.

To be free of the legacy of his father.

**WWW**

"Kallen, you seem very happy today" her mother noted, smiling gently at her daughter as she cleaned up their meal. She'd been humming incessantly ever since she returned home and seemed in a better than average mood. Which could mean one of a few things; a salary bonus, a promotion or a man.

And her mother's intuition told her it was the latter. Her daughter was a filial child, always dutiful and looking after her ever since they'd started living together, keeping her promise. But more than anything, Kotomi wanted her daughter to be happy.

She didn't know too much of her daughter's past in the resistance, even less still about her friends, but she cared for her nonetheless. Like any parent she wanted her child to be happy and had often found her stressed over work, sleeping on her piles of unmarked assignments late into the night.

She'd surreptitiously tried to arrange marriage interviews with a few old friends of hers but her daughter's reputation tended to scare off most men, while other men were interested in her for the wrong reason, seeking to profit from her Kallen's close association with kaname Ohgi, Japan's Prime Minister.

"Nothing mum. I had a really good day. That's all. I went out with a friend to pick up David and had some lunch. Just spent the day looking after David until Viletta could pick him up."

"Does this friend happen to have a name?" she asked curiously.

"Navin Chirac. He's a new teacher at Ashford."

"Hm" Kotomi hummed knowingly, looking at her daughter.

"What? It wasn't a date mum. It was...um...a lunch appointment. I needed to pick David up and he gave me a lift on his motorcycle. But I kind of head butted him by accident and he ended up paying for mine and David's meals. So I asked him out to coffee. Just to make things even."

"In my day a girl didn't ask the boy out for coffee to 'make things even'. So basically you two sat and talked?"

"Yes. For two hours. He actually ended up paying for everything."

"Then it was a date."

"MUM! It wasn't...okay...it was" Kallen conceded, her mother smiling smugly in victory.

"Did you enjoy yourself Kallen?" Kotomi asked. Her daughter could be so insecure about issues of the heart. She hadn't really had a normal upbringing given her affiliation with the Black Knights, though leading a double life had made her far more mature.

Kallen nodded. "We're meeting for coffee tomorrow."

"Well, take it slowly Kallen. Just enjoy it. Don't dive into whirlwind romances. Trust me, they're overrated. That's how I met your father."

**WWW**

Nunally moaned as she clung on to Suzaku, feeling his release inside her. Tremors throughout her body told the Knight of Zero exactly what was happening to her as the little death overcame her, her velvet muscle sheathing his manhood pulsing with pleasure. Withdrawing, he maintained his embrace.

Five long years since he'd killed his best friend, since he'd martyred Lelouche and achieved the final goal of the Zero Requiem. Five long years as the Sword of the Empress, as the face of the charismatic folk hero, the symbol who stood greater than any single man. An idea. For Lelouche had created an idea that couldn't be destroyed, a hero who stood between this world and the next. The Idea of Zero.

Five long years in a role he couldn't ever hope to fulfil alone. With Schniezel's and Cornelia's aid, they'd turned the world into a better place than before, where people could live in peace. A world better than that of the past.

Suzaku breathed in softly, glad for the moment of peace, the hybrid alertness, fatigue and euphoria after the little death leaving him spent and contented. Nunally breathed in softly, her slender fingers twisting through his hair.

He was Zero, her knight, her blade and her shield. The hero of the masses, the ideal that all aspired towards. A hero built on a foundation of manipulation, deception and sacrifice that had risen beyond, transcending it through self-sacrifice redeemed through duty.

Then they heard the knocking on the door. Swiftly Suzaku hid away in the panel behind the wall as Nunally rose up, clutching a robe around her body and using a crutch to walk. Cybernetic implants along her spine courtesy of Rakshata Chawla had restored some of her mobility, allowng her to walk for the first time in years.

All of 20 years old, the Empress had grown out into a stunning woman, every inch the classical beauty her mother Marianne had been. five long years had torn away any naivete she may have had about the politics of Britannia yet her ideals remained just as sharp, her wit honed by her dealings with the disenfranchised aristocrats..

She opened the door and found herself face to face with Miguel de Silva, her Deputy Prime Minister. She calmed down greatly, apprehension and anxiety rapidly disappearing.

A highly competent, ruthless man, he'd been the Sixth State Bureau Director, in charge of covert operations, counter-espionage and internal affairs. He was currently the Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee and oversaw all espionage and counter-espionage activities of the empire.

Descended from centuries of Britannian interbreeding with the aboriginals of South and North America, he was one of those Britannians who had more than a dash of Mediterranean blood in his veins and it showed with exotic almond-shaped eyes combined with the high aristocratic cheekbones.

He was also Cornelia's man, loyal to the core and if not for Cornelia supporting Nunally would have assassinated both her and Schneizel to pave Cornelia's ascension to the throne. He was a power broker in the complex politics of the court and could make or break opponents at will, a kingmaker whom few dared to cross. That most of the court didn't know this was testament to his prowess.

**WWW**

Where the others fought the good fight, Miguel fought the dirty fight, attacking the Empress's enemies and liquidating threats, going beyond the law with his assigned tasks. A man of immense intellect, few would have expected him to be among the greatest supporters of the Indian Resistance and the Black Knights, often supplying information and critical resources to them, his reasons his own.

He scanned the room, his nose picking out the musk of sex and the fragrance of Nunally, a spice wood. So she had a lover now? Not that he cared. He had to take the long view of history and owed loyalty to many masters, though his greatest loyalty was to the human race.

"Empress, I'm sorry to disturb you. The mission is complete."

"I see" Nunally said, none too pleased to be interrupted in the middle of her personal time with Suzaku. But then she'd told him to come straight to her after the mission's completion. A group of rogue nobles had been challenging her authority, seeking to restore the old economic legislations that had granted them so much of their wealth. They'd been powerful old men, a clique in her court that had caused enormous trouble ever since her ascension to the throne, along with her restoration of the Ashford Foundation to its former glory, a reward for the years of loyalty to her and Lelouche. She'd assigned Zero to investigate them, seeking to legally have them arrested.

Unfortunately legal means had failed. Despite Suzaku's resistance to it she'd ordered Miguel to 'deal' with them as he saw fit. This meant their remains were more than likely ashes by now, dead in tragic accidents beyond human control. Like her brother before her, what mattered to her were the results. Lelouche had proved that time and again, much to Suzaku's own chagrin.

"Excellent work Miguel. You may leave" she said, eager to once more feel the warmth of the bed as she withdrew from the door. She stopped as Miguel tapped her shoulder, seeking her attention.

"Empress, a request before I leave...I wish to have a conference with Zero. I seek to consult him in certain matters of espionage. Issues that have no effect on her majesty. But they are matters related to...private things between us."

"And what matters are these Miguel?" Nunally asked, eyebrows arched. She quickly glanced at the trapdoor where Suzaku hid. Like a hawk Miguel took notice of her actions. He hadn't become known as the 'Master of Assassins' for no reason. He was a meticulous man, thorough in the execution of tasks and one who paid attention to details.

"Permit me to speak Empress; they are of things between us as men. I swear this on my honour, on my loyalty to you. But since few can find him, much less contact him except Prince Shneizel or Princess Cornelia...well, both of them are attending to matters in other parts of the empire."

"Very well. I'll deliver that request to Zero, just be informed that he is a...difficult man."

As Miguel left, he gave Nunally a piercing look. "Empress, some advice. One keeps their enemies closer and their allies close. But sometimes, how can one trust an ally who constantly betrays, forever shifting loyalties to his purpose? I suggest you think about that. For example, the...deceased Knight of Zero, Suzaku Kururugi, was a...conflicted man. Are sure you could trust a man like him? My Empress, what I say is in your interest. Keep your friends close but keep those you consider lovers closer. For love...complicates things."

Nunally flinched at the piercing stare. His words were subtle yet direct, leaving no doubt. His phrasing. His body language. _He knew_. Keeping their gazes locked, Miguel's own eyes pointed looked at the panel where Suzaku hid. Where her own eyes had earlier gazed.

"I take my leave of you now Empress. Just remember my words. As with anything related to your welfare and security, you may trust me on my silence. My loyalty is yours". Bowing, Miguel turned and left as Nunally's shocked eyes bored into his back.

**WWW**

Miguel entered his office, noticing the subtle patterns of entry. Someone other than him had entered, the vague fingerprints against the microfilm of the door showing under the UV light of his pen.

Drawing his pistol, he entered silently, hearing attuned to the slightest disturbance. He heard the breathing and reacted instinctively, long years of surviving assassins and countless assaults coming to him. A master of Combat Sambo, the Russian system of close quarters combat which involved throws, grappling, locks and striking, with an emphasis on wrestling techniques, he swiftly exchanged blows with the intruder, feeling the plastic mask deflect a blow from his pistol.

He felt the opponent attempt an aikido lock on him, trying to redirect his force. The intruder was enormously strong. Whipping out the intruder's legs, he slammed the pistol into his temple and wrenched his arm out, pushing it against his range of articulation. Breathing evenly, he turned on the light and found himself straddling Zero, cape askew and breathing heavily.

"Hm. One shouldn't try to ambush the director of a bureau in charge of assassins..._Suzaku Kururugi_. Now you and me, we're going to have a long talk. About your relationship with Empress Nunally, about the Zero Requiem and Lelouch Lamperouge. Finally, we're going to talk about the murder of one of the few men I respected above all else. _Your father_."

Beneath the mask, Suzaku's eyes glared ineffectually at the director, his eyes passing over an exquisitely sculpted crystal lotus inset with glittering diamonds on the shelf, the only decoration in an otherwise spartan room.

"And if you don't cooperate..." Miguel hissed, "I have other ways of making you talk."

From the corner of his eye, Suzaku saw the syringe, the vial filled with Refrain...

**WWW**

Alamgir looked at the photo of his brother and sister-in-law, lost to death and the passage of time. The photo of his young nephew Navin Chirac was prominent among the photos that littered his desk. He'd taken the family name of his mother, just as his father had. Dr Melanie Chirac, Benjamin Chirac and Navin their son.

Alamgir Netenyahu was the CEO of the Amistad Foundation, built up over the centuries as merchant guild which had become a corporate institution based in the historically neutral country of Switzerland, in the city of Geneva.

Over the centuries the Amistad Foundation had become a front organisation for the Diamond Lotus. His own nephew had a trust fund with a net worth of several billions but refused to touch it, preferring to work and earn his own way. Admirable and very much like his father before him. The living legacy of the Black Tiger. He'd made provisions so that his nephew and descendants were provided for, as long as the Diamond Lotus existed.

Alamgir had his reasons for finding Lelouche. Mostly, it had to do with the fact that he was somehow alive. How he knew? The power of the Mantle. Possessors of the Code weren't the only ones who could access the World of Consciousness, and as the Grand Master of the Mantle, he didn't need a thought elevator at all. His own powers far surpassed those of any Code or Geass wielder.

What he did know was that somehow, his late brother knew of it. He'd received his brother's diary in the mail after his death, a record of all the visions he considered important, of when he'd received visions of the future through his Geass.

Benjamin Chirac the "Black Tiger of India" was a legend amongst the global resistance and many Black Knights, many of whom came from India, China and Japan. An ace K-Frame pilot and commander who'd held his own against even the Knights of the Rounds, he'd defeated the legendary Empress Marianne herself in personal combat and matched Bismarck Waldstein, the Knight of One.

Tohdoh Kyoshiro had been among the Black Tiger's senior students, learning about K-Frame combat and battle tactics under his tutelage. The Chinese Federation's Shen Hu had been designed specifically to counter the Black Tiger's personal K-Frame from the beginning through superior firepower and durability.

But his and Melanie's untimely deaths under mysterious circumstances, later claimed to be a joint operation by the Sixth State Bureau (SSB) of Britannia and the Federal Security Bureau (FSB) of the Chinese Federation, had sent shocks through the entire Diamond Lotus as well as the resistance.

**WWW **

Benjamin Chirac had been an exception among the bearers of the Mantle, who could be divided into three categories; the Grand Master who controlled its power, the Masters and the Stewards.

Benjamin had been among the few masters, the rest receiving the title but never the true potency associated with the title. Few people were judged worthy enough to possess the Mantle's power as a steward and even fewer still gained true mastery of it. Rania was the only master besides Miguel de Silva, both of whom he trusted enough to grant mastery to. For with such potency came enormous temptation. And only those reluctant to use its power deserved it, for they exercised caution in its use.

In his long treks through Europe and Africa, Ben had met Caramia. Naturally, they'd gravitated to each other as only immortals could and eventually she'd formed a contract with him, not realising his immortal nature. His Geass had been to see into the paths of the future, into the critical junctures which could affect the flow of history.

Alamgir had read through his brother's diary, the many critical junctures of history described in exacting detail. Many had been averted by the efforts of Alamgir and the Diamond Lotus with a few gentle nudges here and there, leaving traces to the Geass Directorate, sabotaging and generally making things difficult for Britannia.

They'd even known of Charle's attempted destruction of human individuality and Alamgir had been present, hidden in the Sword of Akasha as he watched the battle unfold, ready to strike out at Charles di Britannia and end his threat once and for all.

Many of the entries talked of events after Ben's death. The only drawback was that he hadn't been able to see his own death, unforeseen and shocking as it was. The only warning had been a cryptic message from Miguel that he'd been ordered to assassinate Benjamin. It reached Alamgir too late for him to act. It had been the limitation of Ben's Geass and the one time where Alamgir wished Ben hadn't surrendered his mastery, for then he'd have survived.

But the final entry in Ben's diary spoke of a concealed threat, a blasted landscape where the world burned with flames, where the freedom of human will was no more. A Land of the End Times, a single dark figure standing triumphant.

_Navin's corpse burning in flames. Caramia crucified upon a burning cross, screaming in agony. A young girl with purple eyes and green hair screaming as she tried to escape from her coffin, buried alive as people silently watched. Rania's face locked in an expression of horror as her bloated corpse floated in a sea of blood._

_And the single figure standing on a hill, the lightning marks of the Grand Master of the Mantle on his flanks, the chevron of the Code on his left, his eyes burning with the power of the Geass. A god made flesh, the Three Gifts united in the body of one who desired nothing but destruction._

It was this nightmare future that cause him to seek out Lelouche Lamperouge and Caramia, for he had to know. En Sabah Nur hadn't granted the gift of resurrection to a mortal man in centuries. For Lelouche to be revived, to be given a second chance was something Alamgir couldn't ignore.

To avert this possible future, he sought out Lelouche as an asset, to use his intelligence and strategic acumen as his wild card. His brother had always been vague about the future, telling him that very often it was a matter of luck and guesswork. Just like God played loaded dice with the universe, Alamgir planned to load the dice in his favour by acquiring the loyalty of Lelouche.

He'd told other a story of seeking to induct him, but that wasn't his aim at all. He doubted that such a man as Lelouche would seek immortality, not after his experience with power and its consequences, with the power of his Geass and those who sought to change the world. In his experience Geass users like Lelouche tended to distance themselves from the power after a while.

He considered Caramia, of how she still kept her Code, granted to her by Veronica, his old lover of a thousand years past. In a way he'd started everything, the one who'd set the dice rolling on the boards of history. But now he had to act.

So then everyone could be saved. His old friend Caramia. His beloved Rania. And the living legacy of his brother, his nephew whom he loved like a son – Navin.

He looked at a space marine figurine, intricate sculpting done by him and his nephew. He'd taken the death of his parents hard, as had Alamgir. Alamgir, in an attempt to distract his nephew from his grief had bought an entire collection and sat down with him, putting together an army of figures. He smiled at the memory of the times they'd spent together. All too soon they'd passed, but he was proud of him.

**WWW**

As he sat in silent meditation, the incense from the candles wafting to his nose, he realised how ironic it was that for all his talk of objectively recording history, more often than not the Diamond Lotus had _made_ it.

For all their high talk of enlightened wisdom and superior knowledge and their avoidance of direct power; their ideals, motivations and judgements were still prone to human error. Of course, the only difference was that if they made a mistake, it was far more monumental.

And in the end, why did he pursue this path? Out of love and concern for those he cared about.

Caramia, one of his oldest friends. Rania, his lover. Navin, his son.

In the end, he wasn't really so different from Lelouche Lamperouge. But as Navin had once commented to him upon a bitter breakup - love may make the world go round, may make a mundane life into a jewel, but it also tended to fuck up any form of intelligence and sanity in your life.

**WWW**

Lelouche tossed the salad, attending to the frying pan where the bacon sizzled, the smell of pizza wafting through the kitchen. The inn that CC...Caramia had opened was a well-kept place, situated in a small village in the Alps, an hour by train from Geneva.

'CC' had become his pet name for Caramia. She still grew her hair long, covering the symbol of the Code on her forehead. She came into the kitchen wolfing down a large salami, reading a book on childcare.

He quirked an eyebrow. Her cravings had become rather...strange. Over the course of her pregnancy she'd developed a taste for spiced salami, ramen, oranges and smoked salmon but nothing came close to matching her love of pizza.

He smirked at the memory of when she'd slowly eaten pizza from his stomach, her soft tongue darting out to lick the melted cheese from his skin. Her green eyes had danced with laughter as he'd twitched, fighting against his bonds as she tormented him.

"Lulu, hurry up with the quiche. We've got some honeymooners coming in for a takeaway. I'm running down to the cellar to get some shiraz for our own dinner."

"Yes my mistress. But there is a problem..."

"And what is that?" CC asked, turning her sapphire gaze on him.

"The chef hasn't been getting paid for the past few days."

"The chef's been sleeping with the owner of the inn and gotten her pregnant. He has quality loving, food, a hot girlfriend and a roof over his head, unlike other chefs who only get paid with cash. I suggest that if the goddamn chef doesn't want to sleep on the couch, he continue to cook" she replied haughtily, a twinkle in her eye.

Before she knew it she was pinned to the kitchen counter, her hands caught in his grip. His mouth skilfully claimed hers, sensual promises of pleasure sending shivers down her spine as his tongue danced with hers, drawing a deep moan from within her. She reached out with her free hand and embraced the back of his head, her other hand reaching for a jug of ice water.

"Get back to work" she grinned at him as he spluttered, cold water dripping down his face. Ever since he'd been revived, the chill mountain air and daily walks she forced him to go on with her had done wonders for his stamina and overall fitness. He'd also revealed a spontaneous side to him, surprising her at the most unexpected moments.

With all the aristocratic grace of his breeding, Lelouche smiled evilly at her flushed face. "Now that the chef has gotten his payment, he shall get back to work. But I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight. Let's see how long you last without me."

Shaking her head, CC left the kitchen with a grin. She heard the door bell ring as the couple came in, ready to pick up their meal.

"I'm sorry but can you please wait? Your foods not ready yet but you can order some drinks in the meantime" she called out as she exited the kitchen, two glasses in hand.

"CC? Is that really you?" she heard a familiar voice say. CC stared at the vision before her of Sayoko Shinozaki and Jeremiah Gottwald sitting down at the table hand in hand. "_The honeymooners_" CC vaguely thought. Sayoko did a double take, unable to believe her own eyes.

But any hope of keeping the situation calm and under control ended when Lelouche entered the room. With a reverberating yell of joy, Lelouche suddenly found himself caught in a bone-crushing hug as Jeremiah 'Orange' Gottwald began to jump around for joy, all the while with Lelouche in his arms.

Shaking like a rag doll, Lelouche tried to extricate himself from the superhumanly strong grip with Sayoko unsure of what to do as Jereimah danced around with Lelouche gasping for breath. She wasn't sure how to react to this revelation, to see this man whom she'd seen buried in the soil of Japan suddenly alive before her.

Uncharacteristically, her mind blanked out and she simply stood there, watching her husband hug the former emperor to death. CC took her by the shoulder and led her to an empty seat, forcing her to sit down and placing some water in front of her.

CC simply looked at the spectacle and tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She sighed just as fast, going into the kitchen to grab some wine glasses while Lulu choked in Jeremiah's grasp. This was going to require a lot of explanation.

Who would have expected Orange-kun of all people to end up walking into their little corner of life?

**WWW**

En Sabah Nur watched the events unfold, the collective consciousness of humanity swirling around him like mist as he stood in the Sword of Akasha. The thought elevators had all been sealed and placed under the strictest guard, classified locations guarded vigilantly by the Black Knights. No living being could access them.

Of course En Sabah Nur had no problems accessing the Sword of Akasha. He'd designed the damn thing, though Benjamind had been the one to make it.

The collective will of humanity, the metaphysical entity composed of the gestalt of memories of humans both living and dead embraced the familiar visitor as one embraced an old friend, caressing him with intimacy and familiarity. A bond deeper than love or friendship was long established between them.

En Sabah Nur remembered vistas, of countless worlds past and present beyond the reference frames of this universe. He'd been a mortal once, simply a man who'd walked in the footsteps of the gods, who'd walked the paths of power established by the Ulthaj so long ago.

Yet by his walking of those paths had he left humanity behind a long time ago. He remembered journeys with Zethrei his master, of the time when he'd finally transcended beyond, his mind expanding to encompass the cosmos around him. Of countless conversations with the Raven Queen and the sons of Azaluhaiz.

The Sword of Akasha rumbled around him as he exerted his power, casting himself deeper into the lines of probability that made up the universe, diverging and converging to lead to a single future. Einstein's rules of relativity endured, an absolute of causality and the physical universe that refused to be bent.

Long ago he had created the three abstractions, concepts of power as his gift to humanity, as a way of ensuring that these thermodynamic miracles who'd defied the laws of probability would survive and grow. The Mantle of Humanity, the Code of Immortality and the Geass of Kings. Entities that were born of his innate power, surrendered to ensure the safety of this world.

The very purpose of their existence was simple; through the actions and motivations of the the hosts of the Code and the holders of Geass, humanity was forced from stagnancy, forever forced to adapt. For untold centuries humanity had been stuck in the rut formed by corrupt priesthoods of religions and the institutions of government, twisted to serve the selfish agendas of those in power.

The Diamond Lotus Society was a legacy of Azaluhaiz, one of the many plans enacted in the aftermath of his dormancy to ensure the continuation of existence towards a better state, to avoid stagnancy and promote evolution.

En Sabah Nur had formed it on this world, its mandate like so many other chapters of it, spiralling like roots from a single trunk. To endure. To observe. And in crisis - to act. Their mandate in this place was to follow the bearer of the Mantle of Humanity, their Grand Master. Their imperative above all else was to observe the hidden history of humanity objectively, preserving the truth of the event without bias. The truth of peoples motivations and the truth of their actions.

He had passed the Mantle on to Alagrim long ago, satisfied to watch from the sidelines as the Three Gifts played out, history shaped to the desires of those who possessed the power and talent.

The coming events looked to be interesting indeed. He smiled slightly as he remembered Benjamin. Of all his disciples, Benjamin had been the most irreverent, the laughing trickster who questioned, forever seeding doubt in peoples minds. A man who possessed a small measure of Azaluhaiz within him.

And Azaluhaiz had always been one to make things interesting...

**A/N**: In response to Jjvalour; chill mate.I'm not using the Ulthaj in this story.And even when I do use them,I try to use them judiciously,or as much as you can use entities literally beyond omnipotence judiciously. And that was to plug my story.It was a comment. I just like to link my stories together.A habit of mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

Kallen sat down with Navin in the shade, enjoying the simple pleasure of strong coffee. Or at least she did. Navin had grown up with tea his entire life and preferred a darjeeling to a mocha anytime. She examined him closely, realising why so many of the girls and some of the guys were attracted to him.

There was a disarming charm about him, a quiet handsomeness that drew looks on the street. It also went along with his easy amiability. In general he was an easy person to get along with.

Kallen herself was a fiery and impulsive woman, who wasn't afraid to let her opinions be known and who didn't quite fit into the expectations of Japanese society. Ironically, for all her claim to fame as a freedom fighter for the USJ, she'd found herself more comfortable among those of common Britannian origins and modern Japanese rather than the traditional Japanese.

"What did you do before you became a teacher?" Navin asked, taking a sip from his teacup before placing it back properly. She'd been expecting this question. Many times she'd evaded it only for the truth to come and bite her back.

One only had to look at the historical archives from the last few years they'd have noticed her face anyway. It didn't help matters that her face was plastered in the history textbook side by side with Kaname Ohgi's. But then again, Navin was from overseas, so he wouldn't have known. Added on to the fact that he taught world history and political science rather than Japanese history helped matters.

"I used to work for the Black Knights. Back when Zero was still running it" she answered truthfully. Navin smiled with a glint in his eye.

"Lieutenant Kallen Kozuki the Red Queen. The undisputed ace of the Black Knights along with Kyoshiro Tohdoh. Commander of Squad Zero, Zero's personal guard."

Kallen sat up rigidly, staring at Navin intently before he chuckled.

"Kallen. Do you remember fighting with the Indian Resistance once? They set a trap for a Britannian naval convoy and attacked them while they were moving through the Straits of Malacca enroute to the Middle East. The Malayan resistance helped you launch an attack."

"How do you know that?" Kallen asked, before realising the only obvious answer.

"You saved a K-frame pilot from drowning when his escape pod malfunctioned, one of the pilots serving onboard the submarine carrier Agni. An amphibious Akatsuki, a customised close combat model. Remember?"

Kallen nodded, vaguely remembering the battle. They'd been separated from Lelouch at the time and only the swift actions of the Malayan Resistance and Sumatran Tigers, now divisions of the Black Knights, had saved them.

"Was that a friend of yours?" she asked, trying not to laugh at the irony of it. It was a small world after all, like the old saying went.

"No. It was me."

**WWW**

Milly giggled as Kallen related it to her about the incident over cocktails. Swirling her finger around the edge of her glass, she looked down before sighing.

"So you like this guy huh?" Milly asked in her trademark dulcet tone.

"Well...yeah. We've got some chemistry. But that was totally unexpected. It's like it was fated or something. Imagine running into each other like that. Except both times...Milly, his K-frame went down because _I_ shot it down by accident. Friendly fire. We were going after the same target and he got in the way. It didn't help that he was already damaged. So I shot him down and saved him."

"On top of that, you also ran into him and head butted him, causing to fall head over heels twice if I'm to believe you" Milly said before flicking her hair back. Kallen only nodded.

"You know Kallen, the Chinese have this legend called the 'red string of fate'. They say that the gods tie an invisible string around the ankles of men and women who are destined to be soulmates and marry each other. '_An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,  
regardless of the time, distance or speed. The thread may stretch or tangle though it will never break. This is the god's fortune, the red string of fate'._ Maybe you found your red string soul mate hm?"

Kallen made a noise at the back of her throat. "You know I don't believe in that superstitious stuff. Come on. You know that's nonsense."

"Is the power of Geass superstitious nonsense? A man capable of commanding others just by the power of his eyes?" Milly asked rhetorically. She smiled smugly at Kallen's inability to reply before the moment was broken by her handphone ringing. She picked it up and answered.

"Hey Rivalz. Uh huh. Ok. Tell Cynthia that mummy will be back in an hour. Did you remember to feed Lelouch his medicine? Ok. Ok. Fine. Yes. Don't worry. I'll be back."

The minute she got off the phone she rolled her eyes. And they called women nags? Some men were just as bad.

"So how's Rivalz, Mrs Cardemonde?" Kallen asked, finishing her cocktail. Kallen hadn't been the slightest bit surprised when Rivalz and Milly had announced their engagement. It had taken quite a few years but eventually Milly had relented and finally returned Rivalz's affections, though everyone knew who was the boss. Five years and two children later and they were still going strong.

"Bossy and naggy as ever. Have you heard from Nina?"

Kallen shook her head. After Japan's independence, Nina had moved back to Montreal. Ever since the war she'd cut off her links with the past, trying to deal with her remorse over FLEIA.

The last Kallen had heard of Nina, she'd moved in with an Indian woman called Priya and started a relationship with her, all the while looking after her own daughter, the result of a one-night stand with Lloyd Asplund aka the 'Pudding Earl', Milly's former fiance.

"Well, got to go darling. Give my regards to your mother. Ta"

And with that she was off. Paying for the bill, Kallen stepped out onto the street to get a cab ride back. As she stretched out her hand a familiar motorcycle stopped in front of her, the rider taking his helmet off to reveal the face beneath.

"Navin?" she asked incredulously. Either this was coincidence or he was stalking her, and Kallen knew from her days in the Black Knights how to avoid being stalked. Which left only...

"Coincidence. I happened to be on the way back home from Ashford and needed to pick up some groceries. Need a lift?"

Shaking her head, she took the proferred helmet and sat pillion, smoothing her skirt down.

"Where to Madame Kozuki?" he asked, eyebrows waggling at her from behind his visor, mouth concealing his upturned lips.

"That's my mother. I'm just Kallen. Drop me off at the nearest rail station. I live out in Itabashi. You?"

"Okubo. Rented out an apartment with some friends."

Revving the engine he rode off, Kallen clutching onto her handbag and holding onto his waist. She suddenly understood why so many women and men fell in love with motorcycles. They simply made you look...cool.

**WWW**

Miguel de Silva crouched by the open grave, staring at the coffin as it was interred once more beneath the ground. It was an unmarked grave, hidden in a corner of the Imperial Gardens.

The tests by his own men had confirmed it was Lelouch vi Britannia. The dental records, genetic material and cause of death were the same. Lelouch vi Britannia was _dead. _So the news that he was alive was very much shocking to the two Masters of the Mantle. He and Rania couldn't believe it at first but there was the proof.

His interrogation of Suzaku Kururugi had been most enlightening as he'd used his psychic abilities to peer through his mind, easily skimming through the mental static within. He'd used a combination of word games and psychic suggestion to coax the truth from him, gaining all the information he needed.

He'd rewritten Suzaku's memories and returned him to the Empress intact. It was a necessity that they be together, for the sake of the empire. Empress Nunally was an enlightened ruler, though at times had to be persuaded as to the necessities of harsh actions. She'd been an emotional wreck in the months after the death of Lelouch vi Britannia as had Zero and eventually, grief had brought them together, along with subtle manipulation by Miguel.

Suzaku had attempted to find out how Miguel knew his identity but it was a simple enough task. He'd had the grave of the supposedly deceased Suzaku exhumed and examined, instead finding an empty coffin.

As a master he was immune to the effects of Geass and often had to feign falling under its effects during the reign of Charles who'd used it sparingly. The Sword of Akasha and his discovery of their plan to eliminate human individuality by destroying the human collective unconsciousness had been a plan that would have introduced instrumentality to the human race, denying choice and free will to the human race where they existed as a gestalt dominated by Charles and Marianne's wish.

Alamgir had chosen to wait and see how Lelouch proceeded, stopping himself from reacting at the critical moment, allowing Lelouch to act and destroy his parents. In the aftermath, Alamgir had chosen to leave the platform alone, since it required two Codes and of course, now there was only one, Alamgir intending to keep it that way.

**WWW**

His thoughts turned to Caramia and where she was now. If his assumptions were correct, she'd have returned to Switzerland, her homeland. For all her long years, Caramia had always been a woman of habit and in times of rest, she'd always sought refuge there.

He'd been instrumental in having her freed, providing intelligence to the Japanese resistance forces of the activities of Code-R, persuading them that it was nerve gas while knowing Caramia was the captive within. It had been a moment of sheer serendipity when she'd encountered Lelouch.

In a rather indirect way, he was responsible for the independence of Japan and Lelouch's rise. At the very least, he'd planted the seeds for it. Many times he'd provided critical intelligence from behind the scenes, assassinating key personnel and framing others to open up the avenues for him.

From afar he'd watched Lelouch vi Britannia become _the_ magnificent bastard, the charismatic rebel leader who deftly manipulated people as easily as a chessmaster moved pawns. His sheer audacity and cunning had left even Miguel speechless at times, which was a significant thing in itself.

During Lelouch's reign as emperor, Miguel had gone into hiding, carefully leaving a hidden trail. He'd scanned his mind and known from the beginning of his intention to die, but nonetheless Lelouch had been rather focused on purging the system of corruption while still alive, shifting the pieces to his liking.

His disappearance had naturally set off Lelouch's curiosity, for a spymaster didn't just up and vanish without reason. Now he stood by his grave as it was covered up once more, the coffin once more covered by the dark soil of the new Imperial Centre, the city of Montreal in the region of Quebec.

He felt the vibration of his phone and took the call, noticing the private number. He kept an unmarked phone to communicate with Alamgir, keeping him informed of the events within Britannia.

"Mig, it's Al. How's life man?"

Miguel gave a skewed smile at the familiarity. For more than three centuries he'd known Alamgir, had received the Mastery of the Mantle from him and trained under him, honing his fighting and political skills under him.

He would have preferred a more formal tone but Alamgir insisted on keeping it casual. It just felt improper to Miguel even after all these centuries.

"Yo Al. I'm having a business meeting now. You know the usual. Covering up the corrupt stuff. Bet some people would turn over in their graves knowing what I do for a living."

His staff tried not to roll their eyes at their chief's bad puns. They'd monitored this friend of his and he seemed to be a non-threatening friend who gave normalcy to their director's life. All they seemed to do was get together in a cafe and smoke shisha.

"Life's all good. So you want to meet me later for drinks?"

Yet under the cover of that conversation another one was taking place on psychic frequencies even another psychic would have difficulty tapping.

**WWW**

"_The body is here Alamgir. Lelouch vi Britannia was and is a corpse buried in an unmarked grave in the Imperial Gardens. En Sabah Nur pulled one of his resurrection tricks. How the old bastard does it I'll never know."_

"_Hm. Fine. I trust you and Rania to handle this. A piece of disturbing news though. Clarice was found dead this morning. Decapitation. The same with Amshel. The other Stewards will learn about it. Lelouch is alive. Someone is assassinating the Stewards of the Mantle. The Diamond Lotus is under attack."_

"_Hm. I will investigate Alamgir. This isn't good. I know you dislike to exercise your precognition, but what have you seen of the future? What have you seen of the murders?"_

"_Its obscured. Something else... a powerful artefact. I can't see who committed the murders. Nor can I see into the future. My oracular ability is obscured. Ever since Lelouch entered the scenario my sight has been obscured. The conditions in Ben's visions are coming to pass. The death of the Stewards. We need to avoid them."_

"_This isn't to my liking. Have you been able to track Caramia with your own assets?"_

"_No. I've tried looking under all her past names and all her past locations. She's not there."_

"_Alamgir. Have you considered that perhaps by trying to avoid the visions of your brother, the visions of crisis, we might actually be precipitating them? We might be part of a self-fulfilling prophecy in that regard."_

"_Remember that I'm an oracle Miguel. I have seen many futures. My brother's Geass was to see the crucial points in history, the moments where we were required to act. Why do you think I let Charles carry on till the absolute last moment in the Sword of Akasha? There were three outcomes; Charles winning, Lelouch winning or me intervening. Nothing less than that._

"_Hm. As you say. With regards to the deaths of the Stewards, I will investigate. As for Lelouch and Caramia, I will investigate. As for Zero and the Empress, they are well in hand. Suzaku is still mentally stable but it is a heavy burden he wields as Zero."_

"_Good to know. Keep a watch on Cornelia. I made a promise to her mother Beatriz a long time ago to look after Euphemia. That was not one of my proudest moments when Euphemia died. It was no fault of hers that she did what she did. The power of Geass is unpredictable at times."_

Miguel put down the phone and turned, lighting a cigarette to smoke. Being an immortal, he didn't worry too much about lung cancer. His immune system ensured he could never get drunk or die of disease.

It was a complex web of alliances that bound him to the Diamond Lotus. He stared at his gloved hand, concealing the Code of Immortality he'd inherited long ago from Judas Iscariot, the man who'd betrayed the Great Prophet knowingly. The Great Prophet had been an anomaly to everyone, even to Alamgir and Benjamin.

Even En Sabah Nur had deferred to him, a show of tremendous respect on En Sabah Nur's part. Abraham. Moses. Isa. Muhammad. Buddha. En Sabah Nur had only commented that they were men touched by divinity, of a power beyond his own, before lapsing into silence on the matter. Judas had spoken little of Jesus or Isa, save that he did what was needed and asked.

Alamgir had his secrets as did Miguel, but the keeper of all those was Rania. Just the three of them, forever standing back to back, protecting and trusting each other with their lives. For the last few centuries they'd stood together. For the forseeable future they'd continue to do so.

**WWW**

Much of the intelligence and charisma that Schneizel and Cornelia displayed was very much in the blood. After all, centuries of breeding and intermarriage among cousins early on had locked in dominant traits into the bloodline. With its focus on social Darwinism, only the strongest could ever ascend the Imperial throne.

Looking to be in his late 40's, Miguel de Silva had been a steadfast servant of the throne and the man who'd been responsible for Schneizel el Britannia's formative education, shaping and forming him like water shaped clay into the master strategist and diplomat he was. Were it not for the advantage of the Geass and a fair bit of luck, Schneizel would have been Emperor as far as Miguel was concerned.

He'd also had a crucial part in shaping Cornelia into the general she was, renowned for her military and martial prowess, her generalship responsible for major victories over the enemies of Britannia. However she'd shared in her mother's values, inculcating her mother's ethics within herself.

In many ways Miguel had loved Cornelia's mother Beatriz as one loved a wife, though their relationship was never to be. He'd been a sub-director then while she was an aristocrat. It didn't help that she didn't return his romantic love, though they had become close friends in the end. In many ways, Miguel considered Cornelia his daughter in mind and they were kindred spirits in many ways.

He looked at the wedding photo of himself standing at to the side of Cornelia and Guilford, smiling like an idiot. One of the few times he'd been genuinely happy. Cornelia had married Gilbert, one of her Imperial Knights, taking him as her consort. He'd been the one to hand Cornelia over at the altar and had unashamedly cried, drawing slight coughs from senior bureaucrats. It was a rare sight to see the 'Master of Assassins' openly crying.

Of course, worse had been during the birth of Gilbert and Cornelia's first child, a daughter called Euphemia after her deceased aunt, Cornelia's sister. Miguel smiled at the memory of the nervous Gilbert pacing up and down the corridor while the obstetrician tried to pull of the job of delivering the heir of the Imperial throne.

As he sat in his office downing several shots of rum, Miguel allowed himself a chuckle. In so many ways, he and Alamgir who'd sworn to observe history objectively had been forced to play their roles in it, shaping history and its determinants. Rania had been the only one who held true, observing from the sidelines of history, never taking part in it.

Now there was an artefact that could block Alamgir's sight, two essentially immortal Stewards of the Mantle dead and a man whose corpse he'd just had exhumed who was alive somewhere in this world. One couldn't say an immortal life wasn't interesting.

**WWW**

Lelouch clicked on the sell option, playing the stocks. Over the course of a few weeks, using six separate accounts, he'd managed to grow a healthy amount of thirty million Swiss francs, starting with an initial capital of a hundred thousand that C.C. had given him.

It was a way to pass the time and occupy himself, aside from cooking for the inn and looking after the accounts for it. He didn't realise how...bored he felt. Granted, being the emperor had kept him busy but after his death, all he could remember was a drifting sensation.

He'd always been somewhat atheistic and considered death as a sort of nullity of consciousness. Obviously, he'd been wrong. Then again, his dead mother had tried to start off Ragnarok.

It was rather interesting to note the amount of empirical evidence for paranormal phenomena that existed globally, but mainstream science tended to ignore it somewhat, perhaps because it had to do with the fact that it was considered a pseudo-science.

As the only person to return from the dead that he knew off, he'd thought of writing a book about it. But of course, a novel about a formerly deceased emperor returning to life tended to wipe out any sort of concealment.

Serendipity had led to Jeremiah and Sayoko finding him. It was a reunion that had taken roughly three hours and several glasses of wine to explain. By the end of it the reason why he was here was no clearer than before, except for Caramia saying that an immortal, a man whose power far exceeded that of the Code, En Sabah Nur, had brought him back due to her wish.

So it was like 'A Thousand and One Nights', except the genie was immortal, the princess was Caramia and he was the result of the wish. It was a mystery that C.C. had told him not to bother with because in her seven centuries of life, En Sabah Nur had always found you, not the other way around. He was a _force majeure, _as unpredictable as the roll of the dice and as unstoppable as an earthquake.

"Lulu, get down here. I need you to pick up milk from the grocers! And remember, we've got an appointment to see the gynaecologist down in Geneva tomorrow. Remember to pick up the iron and vitamin supplements for me from the clinic ok?"

Lelouch grinned. C.C. had gone into a nesting mood, rearranging furniture every other week and reading up on all sorts of literature about infant health. She came up holding a names book, flipping through its voluminous pages looking for a proper name. Lelouch had cheekily suggested Kyoshiro or Charles if it was a boy and Kallen if it was a girl.

Of course, what had made C.C. decide to take the decision out of his hands was when he suggested the name Vord Lader in jest. Needless to say, C.C. had questioned his sanity. She'd suggested Benjamin after an old friend of hers or Aidan, while if it was a girl she wanted the name of Elizabeth, though both agreed on Kallen.

"Give me a minute. Just need to finish this, OK?"

As he closed the computer he felt a sudden chill down his spine as his eyes wandered across the painting that hung on the wall. It was an old castle, crumbling ruins dating back to several centuries ago, in the Bordeaux region of France.

**WWW**

Lelouch remembered nightmarish visions, a gloating face that loomed in his vision before it fell away, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity. That was the clearest fragment in his memory.

_He sucked in the air, clawing desperately at the tank as his eyes opened up. All around him were tanks filled with identical men, blank faces staring out into the world. The eyes of people who didn't know they'd died._

_A blinking of lights. A field of genocide. Memories of atrocities and massacre stretching backwards into history. The laughing face of a Britannian, pale face framed by blue eyes and blonde hair, a thick beard covering his face. An expression so malevolent that he retched._

_Then a light. Someone...something that came forth and drove him away. _

It was fragmented and vague but that was his clearest memory. C.C. had asked him about his memories but he _couldn't_ tell her. Although it was nowhere as bad as her memories of endless deaths and resurrections, of the apocalyptic visions in her mind, of corpse-strewn vistas, it was still traumatic.

Attempting to recall the memories while under hypnosis hadn't worked as well, his mind drawing only fragments of a floating sensation, visions tinged with red. But what remained most disturbingly was the smell. No matter what, the smell of blood always remained.

**WWW**

Sighing, he shut down the PC and went downstairs. For all his attempts to reason why he was alive, he hadn't gotten any further. Then again resurrection was an uncommon event to occur to a human to say the least.

"Are you ready?" C.C. asked, blowing a tuft of her fringe hair that stuck out. She eyed him with annoyance, eager to leave and buy pizza on the way home. "Is something troubling you Lulu?"

"No. Every thing's fine C.C."

C.C. glanced at him and knew without saying his thoughts. She knew him too well not to. He still tried to puzzle out the meaning of his second chance but C.C. knew better than to ask that question.

Like any immortal, just as she had implicit trust that any actions taken by Alamgir was for the greater good, so was En Sabah Nur's. Ever since his death, Caramia had also become an approach very close to that which Alamgir, Ben, Rania and Miguel always had possessed.

Like many immortals, they'd started out asking themselves the profound questions many self-aware, sapient beings asked themselves;_Why are we here? What is our purpose? What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of death in the service of life? Why am I immortal?_

C.C. had learnt from Alamgir and Ben to simply...not ask those questions. As far as they were concerned, they were the wrong questions to be asking, for what was the point in seeking answers to irrelevant questions? They created their own suffering and vexations from the asking of them.

Rather, they'd evolved a philosophy that simply emphasised the present. Immediacy. Beyond all else, while they may have planned for the future and learnt from the past, they embraced the present in its fullness, living in it and enjoying it, forming attachments and relationships that enriched their lives on the whole.

C.C. had abandoned it for a long period, lapsing in her practice of it. But ever since Lelouch had come back to her, she'd rediscovered it in a sense. Just like her Catholic faith which she'd kept through the ages, this was no different. It was the philosophy they'd jokingly called Alamgirism after Alamgir himslf.

But in the end it was no surprise that most immortals were Buddhists or Hindu's and generally fatalistic. The Stewards of the Mantle as a rule were fatalistic, simply accepting the events of history as they happened, detached and remote from the affairs of humanity. They only believed in things which had evidence, empiricism and pragmatic logic determining their actions. As C.C. had once been.

Yet at the other end were those who shared Alamgir and Benjamin's ideals; _amor fati_. Submission to ones fate, in that all events as they occurred were accepted with equanimity and stoicism. In many ways, they viewed their life as destiny's cosmic way of reaching their ultimate purpose.

Alamgir was rare in that he straddled the dividing dualities of the immortals.

Shaking herself out of her internal monologue, she felt a sudden craving for salmon pizza and let Lelouch know exactly how he could make himself useful while she cleaned up at home. For all his intelligence and charismatic charm, they had little effect on her outside of the bedroom. The heirarchy of the household was simple. She said it. He did it.

**WWW**

Alamgir sat in the office, looking through the windows at the demonstration field. On it were the two large Knightmare Frames, now colloquially called K-frames worldwide. Li Xingke stood to the sides with a young Empress Jiang Lihua, the Jade Empress of the Chinese Union.

"I'd like to present to you the latest production models of the Harimau units. As you saw from the earlier demonstrations, they are of exceptional quality and can match and in fact overpower many of the current Lancelot and Guren models. The two-seater model can match the defensive ability of the Shinkiro, with a gunner/co-pilot and pilot, aided by an AI system. All of this is powered by the new cold fusion palladium reactors. Integral features are the new ECS or Electronic Camouflage System along with thermal-optic camouflage capability, a stealth coating to minimise radar signature and underwater function with additional flight capability. Judging from your test flight earlier I presume it was to your liking General Li?"

"It was. It was rather like meeting ones soul mate." Xingke mused with a smile. The Empress gave a cold glare at her consort and father of the recently born crown prince. Even as the Commander-in-Chief of the Black Knights, complimenting a Knightmare Frame over her was something that irritated her greatly.

"I must congratulate you on speaking such fluent Mandarin Chairman Alamgir. Have you spent time in our country before?" the empress asked, curious about this Israeli businessman, the Chairman of Amistad Foundation, with its own extensive holdings. They were known more for their banking enterprises than the military-industrial activities of their subsidiary, Amistad Heavy Industries.

"I have spent some time in your nation honoured empress. And please. Address me as Alamgir" he smoothly said, kissing the hands of the empress.

"Charming. Very well Alamgir. Then allow yourself to call me Lihua. In private of course. Protocol must be observed in front of the court. So...these are the new models you've put forward as competitors for our elite units?"

"Naturally empress. As the Vice-Chairwoman of the UFN beside Chairwoman Kaguya Sumeragi, I'd give no less than the best."

At this point Xingke cut in. "The price though Alamgir...it's somewhat excessive. I mean...I could buy 5 Guren Seiten Hakkyokushiki for the price of one of this."

"True. But one of these in the hands of a skilled pilot such as the Empress's Red Guard or Britannia's Imperial Knights could easily take out three such Gurens or Lancelots easily. Not to mention the Black Knights would benefit greatly from the technological expertise and knowledge that we would transfer over."

"Such eager pursuit of military contracts can be dangerous, can't it Alamgir?" the Empress slyly said, a look of cunning in her eyes.

"Nothing of that sort Madam. As the Chairman of Amistad Foundation, I say that we profit from peace. The best avenue for peace is the Black Knights. Therefore, I provide only the best to my customers. Peace is ensured through superior firepower, training, superior manpower, information and economic wealth. Call it enlightened self-interest Empress."

"Hm. An honest corporate executive. A rarity instead of the many snakes isn't he Xingke?" she coyly said. Xingke grunted in the positive. His Empress had grown up into a fine woman and learnt the finer points of politics and manipulation from being close to Kaguya.

"True madame. Would you like a tour of the facilities? I have assigned the project director of this to guide you around the base. Ms. Nagisa Chiba. I think you're familiar with her?"

"Naturally. Chief-of-Staff Tohdoh's wife. A small world isn't it?" the Empress said as she turned to leave. Xingke gave the Harimau an appraising look before turning from the window, noticing with a smile the several production-model Shen Hu's in the hanger of the base.

Alamgir came up beside him. "A May-December romance isn't it General? With you being 32 and she 17?"

Xingke grunted. "You take such liberties because firstly, you're a friend and can say such things. And secondly, you saved my life. Those cloned lungs of yours are truly a miracle. As a soldier I truly wish the Black Knights didn't have to exist but...such is politics. It's better since Lelouch that bastard died, but it's a shame to have to require such weapons to keep the peace."

"If there was peace Xingke, you'd be out of a job. But I do agree" sighed Alamgir as he walked side by side with Xingke. Between them there was a mutual respect, for both could recognise the master strategist in the other, of hidden secrets and concealed plans. It was an intriguing friendship at the very least.

"If only you could make more advances such as these cloned organs Alamgir, then the world would truly be better. Your high-yield rice and wheat crops are bearing much fruit and feeding China and India, along with all your ecological technologies. But still..."

"All those are funded by the lucrative military contracts I get from you, the European Universe, the Japanese, the African League, the South East Asian Alliance and the Australia-New Zealand Cooperative. Everyone's rearming. They still don't trust Britannia's might. my friend. Its a peace you have all right, but a fragile peace. Many of the nations still remember their humiliating defeats by Schneizel and Lelouch. I wish to the gods that this wasn't the case...but this is the way it is eh?"

Suddenly Alamgir felt an insistent ringing in his mind, his psychic senses going off. He felt the words shaped in his mind. The old sign. En Sabah Nur.

Excusing himself, he went to the nearest toilet and sat in the cubicle, closing his mind to all external attentions.

**WWW**

"_If only these people knew the wealth of technology you could provide them. As the Grand Master of the Mantle and Master of the Diamond Lotus, you truly bend things to your will. You shape it as much as record it Alamgir. The longevity vaccine knowledge you keep hidden in that brilliant mind of yours, the power to engineer the quantum foam of the space-time continuum, all that boundless knowledge."_

"_Your point En Sabah Nur?"_

"_Nothing. I make no point. I'm too old to bother. Do you know what the truth of my real name is? It's Aslan. Turkish for Lion. A good, strong name my parents chose for me. En Sabah Nur...its's a title. A label of power. A term of respect. This is the last time we talk."_

Alamgir stopped, his body stiffening in shock.

"_Why do you tell this to me now? What's wrong? Tell me!"_

"_Being En Sabah Nur basically means having access to a transcendental power far beyond human means. I can see humans as a wave function, perceive them as both physical material beings or creatures of energy. I can see into the immaterial layers of reality. Psi...psi is so pitiful compared to this. Call me Aslan. I can see along paths. Lines of probability. Futures. Fluctuations. In another time and place, you and Navin do not exist and the world turns. In another time Lelouch remained Emperor and in insanity tore the world apart. In another he and Suzaku Kururugi became lovers. In another...oh, for you to see what I see. Endless vistas. Endless worlds."_

"_I have the oracular abilities of prescience. I see the future. What is so different aside from you seeing other realities? Come on. Get to the point master."_

"_But they are real Alamgir. Real as your thoughts are real. Real as the love you have for your nephew. I've seen outside space and time and experience things that I cannot describe to you. Wonders and marvels. Now I tell you this; I loved Ben as a son and friend. They were not exclusive. He was what I'd always desired in a son of mine, though he wasn't of the blood of mine. You..you were my favourite disciple. Always questioning. Always pushing your limits. His Geass was a powerful one and even before he died, what he saw could come to pass. The vision of the End Times."_

"_If you're so powerful, why not act? Why use my brother's knowledge as leverage to force me into action? Didn't you found the Diamond Lotus to observe objectively, to act in crisis? I know my responsibilities and they aren't part of them."_

"_The observer effect. In physics, when one measures a particle or process, many times the instruments affect it in some way. To detect an electron a proton needs to be fired at it, changing the path it takes. Just as humans change their behaviour when they are watched. As for not acting...even I have my limits. I surrendered a part of myself long ago to make the Mantle, Code and Geass. I was something more than human. I was born from human parents and the human collective unconsciousness. I was touched by gods. I went beyond the walls of this universe and travelled to many places. And here I return. Humanity is my child. Now it is under threat. Someone...they have an artefact. Something that blocks your foresight. Something that disrupts even my powers. I saw part of it. And I acted. An army of them. Clones. Born from technology stolen from you. Instruments of man."_

"_Go on."_

"_Someone wishes to unite the three together. The Mantle, Code and Geass. They wish for godhood, for power gained and stolen. They aspire to confront me, using a tool I foolishly discarded so long ago, a tool to rival the Sword of Akasha. Something which could wipe out human will and individuality to the last iota. It blocks my sight. I did what I could. I acted and freed one of the many clones. Gave it back its spirit, pulled it from the world of the dead ones. The adversary does not understand. Cannot. Will not. Exhausted me. Lelouch. I saw bits."_

"_Master? What's wrong? Aslan?"_

Alamgir felt fear for the first time in years. Not since Ben had died. A constant in his life. Not since discovering what happened to Amshel and Clarice were found dead.

"_Tired. Need to rest soon. I tried again. I couldn't. Time. I cannot see. I'm blind. Chaos. I needed Lelouch. For my love of my child...I do this. Look after Rania. Look after the living legacy of Benjamin. Look after gentle Caramia who treated me with kindness. Kindness I returned. I will be with you. And you Alamgir...you will have my power and knowledge. The power that I learnt from walking with Zethrei my master. And it will awaken. I gave Ben and you the Mantle, but only you took it. I pass it on to you, when you will awaken. When you act and move with the power of Throne of Engai, the power of a human god. Then you will understand me. My joys. My loneliness."_

"_Master? Aslan. You're dying. I can feel it. What -?"_

"_No. No. Not dying. This is something that I didn't expect at all. No. Leaving. Moving. Beyond this...there's something beautiful. An ultimate reality. An absolute reality. I'm joining Zethrei. I'm...very tired. Please. Don't tell Rania. I always hated seeing her cry. My body...no. It's a shell. Carbon. Calcium. Iron. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Sodium. Only elements. Burn it. Do what you will with it. Only a shell. You will understand. When you awaken. Caramia. She is with Lelouch."_

"_Where?"_

"_Find them. I cannot see them. I...protected her from sight. No one can find her or Lelouch. My protection. My power. I cannot remember. I...Arles. Go to Arles. France. The Yellow House. On the night when the stars are bright. Find them. The Yellow House. Van Gogh. Find them. Protect them. Tell Caramia I am very proud of her. Tell Rania I loved her. They must know. Use your power. Protect those weaker than you. Like Ben. Always like Ben. But you...you were better. He loved you best. Brothers."_

"_Aslan. Why?_

"_Destiny. Always has one great test for everyone. Destiny. It's the past. Already past. I succeeded in mine. Long ago. You'll have yours. You...you're stronger than me. Make it good. I'm so sorry Alamgir. I'm out of time."_

Alamgir felt the presence bleed out of his mind. He reached out, tried to touch the psychic presence but felt only a sliver that disappeared, an echo that vanished as a greater force suddenly seemed to engulf it, welcoming it. Then that too vanished.

And there was only silence.

**WWW**

Xingke dropped by the washroom to check on Alamgir. He'd been in there about ten minutes. As he entered, he heard a sob of laughter before Alamgir left a stall, drying tears from his eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

Alamgir blinked before wiping them off ad trying to regain his composure.

"No. Nothing at all. Just talking to an old friend. Said some insane stuff. Couldn't stop laughing. Come on, let's catch up to your empress shall we?"

Alamgir left, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the burning sensation that flowed through his body. _The Throne of Engai_.

He was now En Sabah Nur. And somehow, another part of his world had died.

**WWW**

The simple crystal gleamed menacingly. Layer after layer of silicon dioxide had been psychokinetically crafted, one on top of the other in wafers of material, creating the complex geometry of it. It was a magnificent creation. Something that En Sabah Nur had crafted long ago.

Fitting in the palm of her hand, she felt it to be a magnificent creation. The age of it was well over nine thousand years. It stored and kept a large well of psychic energy which he tapped, allowing him to achieve feats far beyond what he'd ever expected.

Someone powerful had penetrated her psi screens though, the conjoint power of the crystal enhanced by the technological prowess of humans. A powerful being no less, which meant only the Grand Master of the Mantle or En Sabah Nur himself. A hole torn through her net wasn't good. It could taint the clones in some unforeseen way.

She glanced at the vats around her filled with clones. Charles di Britannia's plan for Ragnarok, to remove the individuality of human beings was so short-sighted. Amateurish. She would prove them wrong and take them out. Amshel had given her the idea long ago and Clarice had helped. She'd deceived them into taking a more militant stance, building a clone army for her purposes. They thought that the Diamond Lotus needed a strong arm to protect its interests. She'd exploited their militant stance, gaining their strength as her own. So she'd done so, using three prime clones as her source.

Lelouch vi Britannia. Such a cunning man and masterful strategist. Manipulative, charismatic and in many ways appealing to the eye. Kyoshiro Tohdoh. An excellent combat leader to suit her purposes. A brave warrior. And lastly was the clone of dear, lovely Ben. The Black Tiger himself. Legendary warrior and commander, strategist _par_ excellence. The benchmark that many were honoured to be measured by. What better way than to spite Alamgir and the others?

All of them spliced with her genes, granting them some degree of psychic prowess no less. The Lelouch clones specialised in psychometry and telepathy though one of her prototypes had been stolen months ago. Regardless, she doubted it could survive for longer than a few days outside of the tanks. It had only just been grown and the genes spliced in.

The Tohdoh clones were raw psychic berserkers, able to lash out at anything and rip apart their minds, an instinctive telepathic web forming among them to make them outstanding soldiers. What one saw and knew, everyone else saw and knew.

The Black Tiger clones were especially beautiful, lethal intent in every movement inside and outside their Shen Hu and Harimau K-Frames.

She had all the advantages. She had concealment through the use of the crystal with its unique properties, concealing her from oracular sight. She had the psychic powers to conceal herself, to make herself small. No one else knew she was psychic. She had the unique Geass to rewrite memories, just as Charles had. She had the wealth from a thousand different accounts, all untracable to her.

The dice was in her favour, loaded and ready to roll at her unleashing of it.

"_Foolish, foolish Alamgir. You always were so limited. Godhood is for those who dare to take it. Humans need the push from stagnation, and only I can provide that. I have the immortality of technology behind me, the nanomachines that Amshel so helpfully researched on Alamgir's behalf. I will restore Britannia to its former hegemony. And in the end, I will win." _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

Kallen clicked on the hyperlink, sipping iced coffee from the packet. A damp towel hung around her head, her uniform strewn over the footlocker of her bunk. She'd just finished a training run on her Guren 'Red Queen', a model customised to her personal specifications.

It was this years model, the Guren Tokijin 2023 Series, customised to her exact specifications. Armoured up and equipped with a sophisticated processor, it possessed the same defensive static electromagnetic shields as the Shinkiro Command model, along with a radar-based active defence point laser that defended against missile attacks.

While many of them were made by Kyoto Automotives, most models of the Black Knights Knightmare Frames came from the Indian Commonwealth, production centre of the world. India, Iran, China and Japan had formed a close economic, cultural and military relationship between themselves, with India the major manufacturing and research centre worldwide, China a close second.

Thrice a week she trained and instructed at the Kyoto Military Academy, putting the latest batches of officer cadets and NCO (non-commissioned officer) candidates through their paces, testing them in their Knightmare Frame piloting ability, leadership skills and command competency. It was also a way to hone her own edge outside of combat. She'd long since been promoted to the rank of major in the military reserves, becoming the executive commanding officer of an entire battalion.

Having just finished training a class, she'd ended her day, retreating to the safety of her bunk in a far corner of the academy, overlooking the Pacific Coast.

She sighed as she read the news. Japan in many ways had always been a racist nation, though nowhere near as bad as the Jewish Purges of Gemany more than a century ago that had led to the creation of the Republic of Israel and the Jewish enclaves in the Taiwanese Republic and Riau Federation.

Recently terrorist activity had spiked in several areas as incidences of racially motivated hate crimes increased. Japan by and large was an insular nation and being placed under occupation and being reduced to a minority in their own homeland hadn't improved matters.

During the time of Britannia's occupation, many Indians and Iranians had migrated to Japan in order to escape the crushing poverty and famine that had gripped their homelands at the time, as had hundreds of thousands of native Filipinos from the Philippines Protectorate of Britannia.

Over the past 5 years as the economy had boomed and the population grew, beneath the seeming congeniality and welcoming attitudes of the Japanese which was genuine enough, a minority had risen, purists seeking to '_cleanse honourable Nippon of the taint of foreigners_'. Britannia's people weren't the only ones with racial supremacists in their midst. Every country had their fair share.

It was an issue that resonated with Kallen on many levels, for the simple fact that she herself was only half-Japanese. For all her efforts, there were still those among the more traditionally minded of old Japan who despised her for what she represented. An ideal. A hope for peaceful coexistence. To them, all she represented was simple: a taint upon the heritage of all Japanese.

She read the intelligence report, lists of the most active and dangerous groups filling the paper. Over the past year terrorist incidents against the minorities had increased, many of the Japanese supremacy factions issuing vitriolic declarations of hatred against Koreans, Indians and other non-Japanese, more so the Britannians than anyone else.

Similarly several Britannian supremacist groups had risen, seeking to push their own agenda. Ohgi had managed to rebuild the physical infrastructure of the country but it would be at least a decade before the psyche of the nation would heal.

But what was more disturbing was how well armed many of them were. Rumours spoke of high level support among the Kyoto Coalition, scions of the plutocrat and oligarch clans of old Japan seeking to return to the old ways, before the invasion by Britannia.

She flipped open her handphone and looked at the two photos plastered there. Her mother and Navin. She hadn't realised until recently how they often attracted stares on the street when they went out together. Two of a kind in their own ways, both stood out in the crowd by their difference. Kallen for her obvious heritage and Navin by his closeness to her.

She opened her email and scanned it, looking through the minutes of the meeting. Her battalion, the 6th Itsukushima Tengu, were assigned to be on guard duty the day Lieutenant General Fhajad Sorentho "Black Tiger" Nair Sahar arrived in Japan for the annual Eurasia-Pacific Summit.

She'd heard much of the famous commander, the Supreme Commander of the Indian Ocean Black Knights Command as well as CO (Commanding Officer) of the Colombo Division. In his early 30's, he'd been known as a tactically brilliant officer, masterful strategist, superb negotiator and exceptional pilot.

He possessed the distinction of being the only man known to have caused the former Knight of One, Bismarck Waldstein, to retreat from battle, as well as being the man credited with outwitting Imperial General Cornelia li Britannia and Prime Minister Schneizel el Britannia on several occasions.

A man of intense charisma, astounding cunning and prodigious intelligence, he was slated to be the next Chief of Staff of the Black Knights after Kyoshiro Tohdoh. His mere presence on the battlefield had caused several of Britannia's and China's generals to reassess their strategies, often devoting entire brigades to his capture or destruction.

From what little information Kallen knew, his father had been the legendary Benjamin "Black Tiger" Nair, another legend of the Indian Resistance who'd trained Kyoshiro Tohdoh in the doctrine that had aided him in pulling off the Miracle of Itsukushima.

Closing the computer, she called her mother as she looked at the time. She groaned as she realised she was going to be late getting back home. It wasn't so much the journey back as much as the traffic.

**WWW**

"How long have you been dating that boy Kallen?" Kotomi asked gently as she warmed up the food. Her daughter sat at the table, hands crossed and her head resting on them as she looked mournfully up at her mother.

"Oka-san, do we really need to go through this? We've only been going out a month. On top of that we're both so busy with work and I've got this summit coming up. The Black Knights activated my battalion to serve as the honour guard and security overseers. We've only been going out..."

Kallen tried to do some mental arithmetic before her mum answered for her.

"A month. He actually dropped by today. A very nice boy. Quite good looking too. He sat down and had tea with me. A good cook too. He dropped off some groceries for us."

Kallen groaned. Ever since her mum had seen Navin's photo and met him a few times, she'd been taken in by his charm and her mum had become pro-Navin ever since. Kotomi slid a plate in front of her daughter and watched her reaction.

"What...is that?" she asked, eyeing the dish warily. It looked to be a mix of cubes of some gluten-based soy or potato, dripping with brown sauce, pieces of shrimp and chicken visible among the melange of spices. The smell however was far more appetising than the vision of the food itself.

"Chai tao kway. Fried carrot cake. He cooked it for us. It's some Singaporean dish. Trust me, it tastes better than it looks. He also bought some crabs for you from Sapporo. You know...that boy is really nice. Good looking too. But there's something a bit off about his eyes...." Kotomi mused.

Kallen gave a grunt before she tucked into the dish. She failed to conceal the look of pleasure that passed across her face. Looking up at her mother's sage face, she finally cast her eyes down in defeat and began to tuck in.

It was a long night ahead of her, dealing with both her academic work and reading through the executive details of her reserve unit. Wolfing it down in what could only be described as a Kallen-like manner, she followed it with a cold Yebisu lager.

She glanced at the clock and wondered how her boyfriend was doing.

**WWW**

"_Mum. Dad."_

_The boy stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. The corpses were still warm, spread eagled on the bloodstained sheets. Bullet holes pockmarked the entire wall of the bedroom, foam erupting from the bloody mattress._

_He gingerly touched them, prodding his mother's arm. It flopped uselessly around, hanging over the side at a strange angle. Her eyes were wide open. He approached his father's corpse, noting how surreal it seemed, a stream of blood dripping down the mahogany skin, already drying in a small puddle beneath._

_He didn't scream. He simply stood there, unable to act. He heard footsteps as someone came up the stairs calling his name. Her voice was familiar. Aunt Rania. Uncle Alamgir's girlfriend. She was an adult. She'd know what to do._

_He heard the footsteps come to a sudden stop before she urgently began to call his name, walking up to him and hugging him. The boy began to shake before he began to beat her, small fists simply hitting her chest as he screamed._

Navin stirred from his sleep and looked through the flow of green numbers that scrolled up and down his visions. He hated nightmares. He blinked and cleared out the cybernetic eyes. They had replaced the organic , biological eyes he once had, lost to torture while in Chinese captivity.

He'd been 17 then, a veteran of a full year of active operations, acting as the pointman for his NDU (Naval Diving Unit) team. Trained primarily as the close combat specialist along with cross-training as the medic and signaller, their small team had infiltrated a remote rig to rescue a captured officer.

While they'd succeeded, Navin had chosen to stay behind, distracting the Chinese and giving his comrades time to escape before mounting a rescue operation. To say that the interrogation had brutally failed to describe his condition by the time they'd rescued him 18 hours later was an understatement.

He'd had both shoulders dislocated, sprained his spine, shattered a clavicle, had his jaw fractured at eight different points and during the escape attempt an unlucky ricochet shot at point blank range had narrowly missed taking his brain. Instead it had entered his left orbital socket and exited his right, destroying the soft tissue of his eyes.

They recent advances in biological engineering and tissue cloning by Amistad Biologicals had opened up the possibility of restoring his organic eyes but he'd grown too used to his cybernetic eyes, the advantages they offered far in excess of anything human.

They enhanced his motor coordination, reflexes and reaction times to the point of being near-superhuman. For all intents and purposes, it was more apt to describe it as parahuman.

He blinked back the tears, shaking his head and clearing his mind as he looked at the newspaper articles strewn about along with the half-marked test papers and the flyers of the Ashford gala festival to be held in the Fenette Memorial Auditorium. It had been built using funds donated by an anonymous donor from Switzerland, supposedly a cousin of Shirley Fenette, a friend of Kallen's and former Student Council member who'd passed away in the revolt of 2018.

But his attention was focused on the announcement in the newspapers, of the smiling face that dominated the front page. Lieutenant-General Fhajad Sorentho Nair Sahar.

"_So you're coming to Japan...brother" _he thought silently. The relationship between him and his half-brother was....strained, to say the least. The most they had in common was a father, nothing more. Fhajad had led a charmed life, rising up the ranks as everyone praised him. He'd taken over his father's position, surpassing his legendary father in nearly every way possible.

Navin on the other hand had chosen a quieter existence, rather than having to live in his father's shadow. He couldn't be his father. He could never match up to his father. In his mind his parents were a vague shadow, figures composed of emotions of warmth, joy and laughter. His mother's scent. His father telling him stories and laughing at his jokes.

He loved his parents, cherishing their memory, as much as one could cherish the vague thoughts that floated through ones mind. But in the end, his true parents were his Uncle Alamgir and Aunt Rania who'd raised him, his family being the comrades who'd fought and bled beside him.

But always, the instant people discovered who his father was, the reaction was the same. They judged him. His actions. His behaviour. His character. His personality. And always, he was found wanting. In so many ways he'd tried to live up to the name yet never seemed to be able to reach it, always outdone by his elder half-brother, aloof and distant.

After the war ended in 2018, before he'd left for university, his uncle had brought him aside and told him a message he'd always kept to his heart. And slowly, his memory drifted back to that moment on the beach as he sat drinking beer with him....

**WWW**

_Alamgir and Navin looked out at the vast expanse of the Arabian Sea as it swallowed the yellow orb of the sun. A cool wind blew through the coconut trees around them, Alamgir shivering slightly at the cold._

"_You're finally going to university. How do you feel about it?"_

_Navin shrugged. It was a change. But it was scary in a way. Since the age of 15, all he'd known was the military. Four years of his youth spent fighting and all of a sudden....peace. In a way it was good. But now, he had no idea what to do with himself._

"_Second Lieutenant Navin Chirac. Has a nice ring to it doesn't it? Ben would've been proud of you" his uncle said wistfully._

"_Don't bring up my dad Uncle. Just...please don't. All my life, I lived knowing that people would always expect similarly from me. I love my dad. I do. I've tried so hard to be like him, but Fhajad, he's just better in every way. Every time people look at me, they only see the Black Tiger's son or the Black Tiger's younger brother" he said, traces of bitterness in his voice._

_He stiffened slightly as Alamgir put his arm around his shoulders._

"_Navin. Listen to me. Nobody will ever be like your father, just as nobody will ever be like me. Nobody will ever be like you either. We are each and everyone unique. It's just that I was lucky to fulfil part of my potential. You're still young. You still have to find out where your strengths lie and develop them. No point fighting on grounds you're not genetically or mentally equipped for. Your brother...he's a different matter Navin. You found your mental limits. There's no point in pushing your weak points."_

_Navin listened. Typical Uncle Al. He'd tell you the truth straight to your face. Your strengths, moderate attributes and weaknesses. All in a single sentence. But the source remained his concern for Navin._

"_I've got a gift for you before you leave."_

_Taking a small packet from his sling bag, he handed it to Navin who looked it over._

"_Sun Tzu's Art of War?"_

"_In many ways, the person I am today is because of the strategies within. Know yourself and master the inner strength that dwells within, for then no man can defeat you. You will stand as a rock in the eye of the storm, the strength at the base of the pillar. In many ways Navin, you've surpassed your father and brother. You just don't know it."_

**WWW**

That had been the last time he'd had a lengthy conversation with his uncle. Since then, they'd only intermittently talked over the past five years, meeting for meals when he happened by Sydney or otherwise.

He reached out for the most treasured of his book collection, drawing the 'Art of War' from the shelf. It was well-thumbed, the cover creased and bent, wrapped in clear plastic to protect it against the elements.

His uncle had appended his own thoughts to it, tucked away in small notes where his spidery writing could be read clearly. "What is the ultimate battle strategy?" Navin read aloud, looking at the question.

He turned the page and there the answer was. Typical of his uncle; _to avoid battle by removing an enemy's will to fight. _

**WWW**

Lelouch was currently losing any form of will to fight as he stared across the board at his opponent. He sat there, smiling serenely and grey-eyed as he tapped his fingers together. His opponent had outflanked him and set him up in a classic Lucena position.

It was a rook and pawn versus rook endgame strategy. The attacking pawn had cut off his king from the pawn by one file,while the pawn had reached the seventh rank.

"Do you admit defeat Anton?" the man asked, entire face aglow with the radiance of victory.

"Never!" Lelouch said with all the bravado he could muster, concealing his feelings of unease within. The man, Aziz Zahedi, had been staying with his wife in the inn for the past week, exploring the town and the mountains around the region. He'd gotten to finding out that Lelouch, going by the name Anton Marras, was a chess player of some skill.

The bet was simple. Aziz had smugly told Lelouch that if he couldn't beat him in a game of chess, their dinner tonight was free. Specifically, a lobster dinner, the most expensive meal on the menu. Up for grabs was a bottle of wine as well.

"This is the fifth and final attempt Anton. Come on already. I've already checkmated you the last four times. Go easy on yourself and give up" Aziz said amiably.

Lelouch rubbed his eyes, unbelieving at the level of strategy displayed by this man. The man was easily a grand master, as good as Schneizel, among the few who'd consistently defeated Lelouch in the arena of strategy and chess.

Assessing his position, Lelouch finally surrendered, conceding defeat as he shrugged his shoulders. Never since his resurrection 3 years ago had he suffered such bruising of his ego. In Monopoly, Caramia consistently beat him, her mastery of the ways of money and greed exceeding even his own attempts, while he was the master of Risk.

At that point Caramia walked in with Raven, Aziz's wife. In her fourth month of pregnancy, her abdomen was softly rounded, showing through the clothes that she wore. Raven was an elegant beauty, though her robes concealed the curves beneath.

"Aziz. Stop stomping the poor man at his own game" she said easily as she came to look over the board. With a slight sound at the back of her throat, she looked over it before reversing it and making a move on her husband's behalf.

At this point Aziz's eyes widened as Lelouch gave a wolfish grin and moved his queen forward, finally breaking the position.

"Check and mate. You lose."

Aziz paled considerably as he stared at Raven, eyes blinking in utter bafflement before she winked at him and entered the kitchen to join Caramia. She'd utterly annihilated his winning streak.

**WWW**

"So that's how you keep him in line?" asked Caramia, laughing throatily as she placed the pizza into the oven. It was rare for Lelouch to find a good rival, though in this case it was more like Aziz finding a good chew toy to occupy his time.

"Yeah. He's such a dear . You wouldn't know it from the way he behaves though. So is it a girl of boy? Fourth month?"

Caramia ran her hand slowly over the bump. "Yup. Second trimester. A daughter. We've actually decided on a name. Shirley."

"We've got five of our own back home. Angela, Akal, Tumelo, Naris and Steven. They've all left the home. Then we had another two additions last year. Twins. Erica and Peter. Trust me. They're a handful even with Aziz's brother helping taking care of them."

Caramia smiled as she settled into conversation with Raven Roth. A couple hailing from Amsterdam, they'd been staying for a week in the inn and had gotten along tremendously with them. Raven was an art dealer while Aziz was a restaurateur, running a franchise of eateries from Paris to Tokyo. Thus the excuse to travel. They were in their early 40's, having married as teenagers, both coming from middle class families.

But what had really solidified the fast friendship into concrete was when Caramia discovered from Raven that Aziz ran a series of gourmet pizza parlours and Asian restaurants. Aziz had congenially invited them to enter his restaurants. All she had to do was call Aziz or Raven and they'd speak to the manager.

**WWW**

Caramia opened a bottle of red wine and let it breathe for their dinner. Aziz and Raven excused themselves as they left to explore another village over the hill, an hour's drive from where they were.

Lelouch came in,a brooding look on his face. Caramia stifled her laughter, trying not to rub his defeat in. Ever since Aziz had come, Lelouch had to fight for his victories. She rested her chin on his shoulder before grabbing his hand.

"Lulu, let's go look at the sunset. Come on."

Rising up, Lelouch followed C.C. as she pulled him along. Pulling on a sweater to protect against the chill of the wind, Lelouch looked at C.C. and smiled softly. Her fondest wish had always been for true, genuine affection and she'd found that in him. Her warlock, as he'd declared to her.

He'd left a bitter path behind him, carrying the burdens of the world and drawing their hatred, all for the sake of Nunally. He'd manipulated and broken too many people in the paths behind him for his hands to ever be free of blood. Bitter, black and tainted. But here, with Caramia, he had a second chance. It wasn't his burden any longer. His desire was simply to live out his life with her.

He had no need to change the world. No drive to make it better. His life was here and now, in this present. The world had its own guardians and he'd paid the bitter price. It wasn't his responsibility nor within his power to effect change. He was simply Anton Marras, husband of Caramia Marras, the chef of Marras Inn. No more. No less.

**WWW**

They held hands and walked along the cliff trail, overlooking Lake Geneva from their position. It spread out like an azure desert, the setting sun slowly sinking into a cleft in the mountains. Her slender fingers entwined with his own and he looked on contentedly as they sat down on their usual rocks.

"Lelouch. I want you to feel this" C.C. said softly as she took his hand and placed on on her rounded belly, letting him feel the faint movements within. Lelouch's eyes widened as he felt the tiny flutters, looking at C.C.'s own green eyes.

Their relationship was a miracle in itself. Of the billions of humans who lived, she possessed the Code. Of the millions of people within Japan, he'd been chosen. Of the thousands of those who sought to change the world, he'd made it.

And then he'd paid for his sins as he'd sunk into darkness, knowing the consequences of his actions, paid for in the blood he'd shed. For wasn't it he who'd once said _"...only those who are willing to walk the path of blood can wield power over life and death. Only those who are willing to kill should ever possess the power to rule."_

And here he was, alive once more. And beneath the fingers, the flutters of his child within C.C. told him that life continued on.

"You were there for me in many ways. I was your shield. And you were my warlock. When I lived and walked the earth alone, it was you to stood by me. Who showed me that there was more that I could live for. I'm still immortal Lelouch. I still have the Code. But....I'm glad I'm with you" C.C. spoke softly.

"I know. Um...you don't mind me naming her Shirley right?" Lelouch asked, unsure of himself. He felt that he owed it to Shirley. His first love and best friend. The girl whose life he'd touched and destroyed. Yet through it all she'd always loved him. He'd thought of naming her Euphemia but decided against it. Some names struck too deep at the sins within his heart.

Caramia smiled. "It's a good name Lulu. I didn't know her that well but she was someone dear to you. She was always a happy girl from what little I knew. It's a name for a happy person, a beloved person. And our daughter will be happy. We'll make sure of that."

A comfortable silence enveloped them for a bit before C.C. piped up.

"I'm thinking of taking a holiday Lulu. We can leave Roland to run the inn for a month and just leave. I've been thinking of going to Arles in France. Raven told me that Aziz has a pizza parlour there."

Lelouch groaned. "What's with you and the pizza?"

She shrugged. "I'm Swiss Italian. It's in the blood. Besides, they have a fireworks festival there at this time of the year and besides..." C.C.'s eyes took on a sly look.

"There's a chess festival going on as well. All the masters of Europe and Britannia are going to be there. I think -"

"We're going. I'll take care of everything" Lelouch rapidly answered.

C.C. smiled. Exactly as she'd planned. All the conditions of her plan were fulfilled. Finally, she would go to one of the premier gourmet centres of France. She had yet to mention to Lulu that there was also a pizza festival going on at the same time. Finally, she had manipulated the great Zero into following her plans.

C.C. had every excuse. After all, she was eating for two.

**WWW**

Alamgir sat at the head of the empty table. The room was dim, shadows dancing across the walls as rain poured down the windows of the skyscraper. Typical Singapore weather during the monsoon season.

The past month had seen several more Stewards of the Mantle dead, cutting down the numbers from a total of 20 to the current 12. Albus had escaped assassination by the width of a hair in Russia, narrowly avoiding a car bomb that had killed the entire board of director's of Siberian Hydrogen Works which controlled much of the hydrogen and fuel cell production in the Russian Federation.

He sat staring at the rain as it meditatively drummed against the windows. Rania entered, followed by Miguel a moment later. Alamgir paused in this thinking, halting the many threads of awareness that ran through his mind.

He'd tried to pierce the psychic barriers but failed. It's geographic location was somewhere around the Cape of Good Hope, but that had turned out to be a decoy. Since then their adversary, whoever it was, had continued to move around, using psychic beacons to confuse him.

But their greatest advantage lay in the nameless crystal they possessed, crafted by Aslan eight millennia before. It obscured his senses, from the arcane forces of reality warping that defied the limits of Euclidean realms such as the reality that humans perceived to the psi he exercised.

He'd tentatively tried using his more esoteric abilities, best described as arcane. En Sabah Nur's powers basically defied several well established scientific theories and the only way Alamgir could sum it up succinctly was with the term 'sorcery'. Despite receiving the experience and knowledge of Aslan, he couldn't use his abilities as much. They'd yet to recover from the backlash he'd suffered and only slowly were they stabilising.

"Alamgir. We're being attacked on all fronts. All our public archives are being destroyed bit by bit while my informant network is throwing up clues of a group calling themselves the Legacy of Kratisteros. Something about a global conspiracy dedicated to world domination. Thankfully our covert archives are hardened..." Miguel said, trailing off.

Alamgir nodded. Someone was already targeting the Amistad Conglomerate, tying them up in courts of law with lawsuits and allegations of corporate misconduct. Several of his chief science staff, crucial to several military projects, had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Quite literally. The police couldn't find them nor could his own corporate security or the private defence agencies he'd hired.

Rania spoke next. "I think its time we conferred with Fhajad."

The response that met them was stone silence. Miguel looked at her as if she were a madwoman while Alamgir's face took on a dark expression. Navin's elder brother, he was an extremely prominent individual and one that Alamgir and Miguel had difficulty dealing with.

Benjamin Nair's first son, he was the current 'Black Tiger' of the Indian Commonwealth Black Knights, in command of the prestigious Colombo Capital Defence Division. He was also a man with imperialistic ambitions that unsettled Alamgir greatly. And every bit the brilliant strategist and manipulator his late father was.

"No. Not that _bastard_. He'll use us to fulfil his own agenda. You know where his ambitions lie" Alamgir literally spat, trying to quell the anger at Fhajad that resurfaced with the memories of him and his mother. Fhajad's mother had been a Sahar and that was bad enough.

The Sahar family had a long history stretching back millennia and claimed descent from divinity like the Imperial Family of Japan, claiming descent from a being who'd come from the stars. The veracity of this claim and the claim itself was something usually glossed over and left within family genealogies, many dismissing it.

Alamgir could confirm that fact for the truth, at least partially. Aslan had spoken of them as wild cards, the joker cards in a deck. Much like the many prophets he'd witnessed, Alamgir had an antagonistic history with the Sahars.

He'd asked Aslan once before of how best to manage them and Aslan had simply shrugged, saying that like Isa (Jesus) and Muhammad, they were _something_ beyond his own mandate, mentioning only of indirect links to the Ulthaj. Which didn't do anything to improve Alamgir's mood. The Ulthaj were an abstract he didn't wish to consider but thankfully Aslan said they weren't a factor. What he knew of them was already complex enough.

Immortals whose lives spanned centuries he could deal with. Ancient conspiracies centred around world domination he could handle. A powerful family of psychics who'd used his brother as their tool and left him to his death despite their ability to halt it was another matter entirely. It became personal.

"Your vendetta lies with Fhajad's mother whose already dead. Our master would have said as much" Rania spoke reasonably. She'd taken the news of her father's death relatively well though she was still emotional at times. But her long life had taught her emotional discipline and she coped with it well.

"Besides, for all his imperialistic ambitions, Fhajad and his family would make a powerful allies for ourselves. Just as we allied with the Anglican Church during the time of the Spanish Inquisition, or as we did with the caliphs, I see no difference. It is something we've always done. The Diamond Lotus endures. We always win because we outlast our foes. We rise like a lotus from the mud of the lake, enduring all that assaults us."

Miguel spoke next, finally conceding the point. Decades as a bureaucrat and spy master had taught him to be pragmatic, looking at the world from the perspective of 'might makes right'. It was a simple truth that whoever had the most power would triumph, as was often the case.

As much as one cheered the underdog, popular appeal could only take you so far. No matter how skilled an insect, one could never defeat a mountain alone. Where strategy, wit and cunning failed, one could only resort to brute force.

"An alliance with Fhajad Sahar would be beneficial to us. His star is rising and he is currently courting Princess Sophia yu Britannia's hand in marriage. For all his imperialistic aspirations, he would make an excellent ruler of the Indian Commonwealth. He is already an Honorary Knight of the Rounds. Like Schneizel, he would make an excellent emperor in a time of peace. Of course, he's nowhere near as manipulative but he is by far the more ruthless."

"You would know wouldn't you Miguel? After all, he was one of your students" Alamgir said snidely, biting back an insult. It was irrational to hate the boy, but it was also hard to let go of a hatred towards the boy's mother no less.

Miguel nodded. "A student who's surpassed his master. You may have....issues over his ambitions and his past but I have to say that in this course...Rania's right. There's a summit in Tokyo coming up. The United Federation of Nations Annual Summit. He'll be attending to take up his seat as the new Chief-of-Staff while Tohdoh is to become the new Deputy Prime Minister of Japan and Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission of the UFN. Li Xingke remains Commander-in-Chief and Chairman of the CMC."

Alamgir gave an irritated growl before finally nodding his head. They'd have to cut a deal with Fhajad whether he liked it or not.

**WWW**

With honed reflexes Zero moved swiftly to the side of the Empress as the SAS stormed the building, designated the hot-house. The Special Air Service of Britannia's military were its foremost special forces unit, generally regarded as amongst the best-trained in the world.

Adding an element of realism to the training was the use of live personnel as hostages during room clearing operations. SAS counter-terrorist and hostage rescue training was facilitated by the highest members of Britannia's government, many of whom took part in actual training exercises.

With a burst of flame and smoke an operator entered through the wall and aimed a pinpoint burst at the target dummy a few inches past Nunally, the bullet exiting through its head and burrowing itself into the concrete wall. He felt Nunally tense at the gunshot before calming under his grip.

Within seconds it was over as the lights came on, the harsh fluorescent lights showing the soldiers who had been acting as their hostage during the exercise. The reaction was near-instantaneous. They dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

"Empress. Permission to rise" came the gruff voice of their platoon commander, a senior lieutenant by the rank bars on his collar. Nunally nodded and the rose before swiftly departing. She rose on her walking stick and walked out, flanked by Zero on one end and Miguel on the other end.

"Very impressive Miguel. I see that putting you in charge of the Special Operations Directorate has yielded fruit. The other members of the Joint Intelligence Committee have said as much. But how would you feel about a sabbatical?" she asked.

"I'd feel honoured to serve you in any capacity Empress" he answered smoothly. The situation between them had been somewhat precarious, with the revelation of his knowledge of who Zero actually was.

Compounded by the fact of his complicity in the Zero Requiem, knowledge of Suzaku Kururugi being alive could start off a new war, with most nations more than eager to attack Britannia for its deceptions. Nunally had initially considered having Miguel liquidated – assassinated in other words. At least until she'd sat down with Cornelia and discovered to what extent Miguel wielded influence in her court.

**WWW**

Britannia's legacy of Social Darwinism still held sway in the intrigues of the court, the aristocrat constantly seeking for weaknesses to exploit and gain favour with the Imperial Throne. While lessened since the death of Lelouch, such traditions still held sway despite the purging of countless aristocrats during Lelouch's reign.

Charles di Britannia had been a powerful emperor who'd ruled with an iron fist and hammered his adversaries into submission. In the brief interregnum that had marked Lelouch's ascent to the throne, followed by Nunally's own, her kinder, gentler stance and magnanimity had been taken as weakness.

One of the few reasons she'd so quickly been able to restore order was that many of her enemies had been ruthlessly silenced on the orders of Zero as well as by Miguel de Silva. In essence, she was where she was because of the actions of her siblings, lover and follower.

Nunnally had suffered as much as anyone under the reign of Charles di Britannia. She'd witnessed her mother assassinated in front of her eyes, would forever be unable to walk properly due to the extensive nerve damage to her spine, had witnessed her brother's descent into near-insanity.

She'd been violated by her father through his Geass, robbed of her sight, betrayed by Suzaku when he'd sold Lelouch to the Emperor, manipulated by Schneizel willingly in her plan to take on the world's suffering while aiding Schneizel's plans for world conquest, suffered the death of her beloved half-sister Euphemia and had her brother die in her arms, his name forever cursed in history.

It was testament to the strength of her heart and pragmatism that allowed her to work with them, choosing reconciliation and peace over vengeance and conflict. She and Cornelia had formed a close alliance with Miguel, keeping a watch on Suzaku and Schneizel, because without a doubt Cornelia _knew_ that Miguel's loyalty belonged to her.

Ever since the day of her birth, he'd been the surrogate father to her compared to the distant Charles, giving her a sense of normalcy by taking her to theme parks or visiting her in boarding school. It had been Miguel who attended her school sports festival and military academy parades, him who'd given her hand to Guilford at their wedding.

In every way Cornelia knew that Miguel was hers, willing to die for her if need be. He'd risked his life in protecting her daughter, Euphemia Guilford Britannia, as well as her own more times than she cared to count.

**WWW**

"I'm attending the UFN Summit in Tokyo. Naturally the UFN doesn't wish to have any substantial Britannian military presence within three hours flight of Japanese territory. They're rather touchy about it for reasons we all know. Suzaku will be at my side. But I need a negotiator I can trust. They want to thrash out an agreement on the use of space resources, nanotechnology and the future Martian and Venusian colonies. That's where you come in Miguel."

"So its a working holiday for me then?" he asked without a smile. Nunnally shook her head. The man was a humourless bastard sometimes. To her knowledge the only holidays he'd ever taken were to visit Cornelia in her youth.

"Well...yes. Cornelia will be Acting Prime Minister while me and Schneizel thrash out the details. I'll need your help in making it fair for us. We're already saddled with paying Japan, Russia and the European Union war reparations over the next century. We need to at least maintain our power base in space."

"Hm. I will handle that. Rest assured we'll reach an equitable solution. The last five years have been hard on the empire."

"On the whole world Miguel. Also, it's the security that I'm worried about..." Nunnally added. Given her presence there along with several other world leaders, they were a prime target for assassination.

Several anti-Britannian groups had already been prosecuted for attempted assassination on Nunally while foreign groups from Europe, Asia and Russian as well as local Japanese groups were intending to make their presence known. Miguel had been busy coordinating with his counterparts to lessen the problem, though several groups were still known to have plans in motion.

"Two battalions of the Singapore Guards Regiment as well as their 1st Commando Battalion and Royal Malay Regiment are responsible for security during the summit. The 1st Brigade of the Colombo Division will also be present and cooperating with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police to provide perimeter security."

"Let me guess; Lieutenant-General Fhajad 'Black Tiger' Sahar is present" Nunally said, noticing the twitch on Miguel's face.

"Yes Empress."

"Do you know -"

"He is a man who is very much his father's son and even more so in capability. A man to be feared and not a man I'd want as an enemy. He is as charismatic as his father if not more so and a strategist as good as Prince Schneizel. He deserves the title of Black Tiger for a reason Empress Nunnally. A powerful ally for any faction though one needs to beware of his ambitions."

Fhajad Sahar was her future brother-in-law and had placed himself to become the future bound consort of Sophia, one of the countless half-siblings sired by Emperor Charles. He had not married her as that would have eliminated her legitimate claim to the throne, just as Cornelia had only taken Guilford as her bound consort.

The system of marriages was simple. A bound consort, being usually a man, was a partner who was legally bound under a marriage contract to one of the partners. The children produced from the union generally bore the mother's surname as the proper family name but upon it was appended their father's surname.

As such, Cornelia had been able to marry a commoner without having to surrender her right to the throne, while preventing Guilford from having a legitimate claim. Though Nunally had eventually made him a Duke and elevated his position into the peerage, rendering this less of a problem than before.

Due to Fhajad having legitimate claims to the thrones of all the states that compromised the Indian Commonwealth, he'd been able to leverage on his political influence. As such he'd become a celebrity in South Asia, the handsome war hero whom the masses clamoured to claim the empty throne of the Indian Raj.

Nunally was keeping a close eye on him.

**WWW**

Senior Warrant Officer Zaki 'Zack' Kim often left immigration officials confused due to his rather exotic sounding name and looks. People couldn't figure out if he was Korean, Mongolian, Arab, Nepalese or something else entirely. He was actually Korean and Javanese, Java being an island in the Indonesian archipelago.

But the issue wasn't that of his ethnicity but of his purpose in being in Japan. A member of the Singapore Guards and Commandos, he was 5'7 and in his early-40's, though behaved nothing like the stereotype of a grizzled veteran, because he wasn't.

He'd decided to come to Japan on a short holiday with his family before rejoining his unit while they provided security for the upcoming UFN Summit. Of course, the one thing that prevented him from truly partaking of the family holiday was a phobia of roller coasters. His wife and children loved them. He didn't.

He was a trained commando and guardsman who regularly jumped from planes, was paratrooper-trained and a close combat specialist as was demanded of most guardsmen. Which inevitably surprised most people who knew him. As was his companion.

"Yo Zack, anything the matter?" his compatriot asked. Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra was a man of Anglo-Burmese, Spanish, Swedish and Chinese descent, which made for a spectacular blunder among the bureaucrats when trying to classify him. In his early 30's and 5'6, he was of average height for a Southeast Asian but had an intense muscularity about him that warned attackers off.

"You remember Navin?" Zack asked, looking at the map then at the school.

"Yup. Demon Thunder. Ben's boy. Fhajad's brother. Why? He retired from the service after peace broke out. I tried tracking him and -"

"Well. We found him. Want to pay our old friend a visit? Seems he achieved his dream. Now a teacher at Ashford. Since we got a few days before our families go back and we got to return to duty, I figure we can pay him a visit."

Both of them looked at each other and grinned. Zaki had been like a younger sibling to them during the war years. Living in their camp, whether on the _Agni_, the jungle or in the city, they'd seen him grow up over the years from the time he was twelve. It was nice to see him finally working. They couldn't wait to see the shock on his face. As they strode forward, a strong hand reached out to grab both of their shoulders.

**WWW**

Navin gulped down some soy milk, glad to finally have a break from the incessant questioning of the students. He'd not only been assigned to teach politics and history but was now the assistant trainer of the rugby team and the kickboxing club after the principal had decided to look through some of his old records and found out his former position in the military.

He walked into the gym, noting how the girls team was clustering around some of the boys who had taken to sparring. He was covering for the girl's teams coach for a week due to her being on leave to care for her sick daughter. Cancer. The staff had chipped in where they could to help.

"Come on ladies. Gear up. Time for your warm up."

As they assembled, one girl in particular kept on looking back at the ring as the two boys exchanged blows. With a snap of his fingers Navin caught her attention.

"Desiree. I know you've got the hots for Alfie but seriously, eyes on me. I know I'm not as handsome but -"

"Oh, come on Mr. Chirac. Everyone know about you and Ms Kozuki..." another girl piped up.

"And that's none of your concern. In fact, since you've got so much energy to talk...Alice. Take the girl out for three laps around the school."

"But Mr. Chirac, that's six kilometres around the school. I mean -"

"Four laps. Just go and do it. When you come back it's an hour of pad work and cardio."

As the girls exited, some of them shooting glares at him, someone began to applaud.

"You'd have made an excellent officer if you'd stayed on in the military Navin. Being a teacher is a waste of your talents. A waste of your true abilities. You should have listened to me."

He whirled around to see his two old friend, Anwar and Zaki, flanking a man he resented more than anything in the world. His eyes narrowed as he glared at him, Anwar and Zaki excusing themselves as they inched away from the target of his wrath.

"Fhajad."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

"You make it sound like some terrible curse Navin" Fhajad said amiably, walking over to his brother and enveloping him in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" Navin asked icily, his body stiffening in his brother's hold, muscles tensed for violence.

"I can't come over and pay a visit to my kid brother?" he asked with feigned puzzlement.

"Half-brother" Navin reminded him.

The smile reduced itself to a neutral stare between the two siblings. "So how's your mother?" Navin asked, eyes twitching.

"Dead as usual. How's yours? Bullet riddled like the whore she was? I truly don't see what father saw -"

Fhajad dodged the punch before grabbing it and moving behind Navin, locking his arm behind him.

"I'm trained in Vajra Mushti, Kalaripayat, Silat Lian Padukan, Krav Maga, Jeet Kun Do, Shaolin Kung Fu, Boxing, Kyokushin Karate, Rumi Maki, Eritrean Testa,Penchak Silat, Ceylonese Aikijutsu, Taijitsu, Muay Boran, Lethwei, Pradal Serey, Bokator and Taekwando, all to master levels. I've survived more combat than you've ever experienced. I can see where you're going to attack, I can see how you're going to attack. You've never been able to beat me brother. I've got twelve years on you" he said in a matter-of-face tone, twisting Navin's arm further.

"Well, I'm not the genius psychic like their mother" hissed Navin before he slammed his head back even as Fhajad pushed him forwards, shoving him to the floor.

The students stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the scene. And it began to dawn on many of them exactly who it was that was causing a scene with their teacher. Fhajad was very much the future emperor of the Indian Commonwealth, assured by his lineage and family wealth. His face was a visible presence in the media given his string of affairs with female celebrities from Europe to Africa, the Middle East and China.

The students began to whisper at themselves as they saw the two siblings square off. Zack and Anwar stood awkwardly in a corner, their intention of surprising Navin utterly gone as they realised what it was about to turn into.

"In the ring _now_ Fhajad" said the visibly irate Navin, his otherwise ready smile replied by a scowl.

"Why? So that I can beat you up? Every time we've fought you've never even managed to hit me. You're not even worth it. You're beneath me, just like that _whore_ was beneath Father or my own mother. You're wasting your life by refusing to join me, by accepting your heritage. Pathetic. Just -"

Navin clutched the brass knuckles in his fist and made an uppercut into Fhajad's chin before grabbing his neck and slamming a knee into his face before stomping down on his foot. He sent him sprawling, blood dripping from his nose. Fhajad looked at Navin before replying with a smile as he climbed into the boxing ring, already vacated by the students as they stood unsteadily.

Some of them had gone to fetch other students, the news circulating around the campus that _the_ Black Tiger was present on their campus. The one who'd contributed to Britannia's defeat. The one who was poised to be the next Emperor of the Indian Raj and whose very presence inspired fanaticism in untold legions of people. The future consort of the famous artist and actress of the royal house, Sophia yu Britannia.

"Hn. Good. First time you've actually managed to hit me. First time for everything. Come into the ring and keep your brass knuckles on. I'll give you that. But I'll have you crawling like a worm on the floor once I'm done with you. Like the pathetic piece of shit you are. Worthless. Hell, just to give you a chance I'll only use my arms. I won't even bother to knee or kick you. Why waste my effort?"

"Says the guy bleeding from his nose" said Navin snidely as he climbed over the ropes of the ring and stared down at his brother."

**WWW**

Zack smacked his head in frustration. He'd just wanted to come to visit an old friend. Why of all places had Fhajad decided to make an appearance here and now? His old student had a less than friendly relationship with his younger half-brother, given how their first meeting in five years had gone.

Anwar bristled slightly, unsure of how to respond, whether to get in and intervene in the brawl or avoid it altogether. The crowd of murmuring students appearing around the ring was sure to destroy any form of anonymity that Navin had sought, what with Fhajad fighting him in the middle of Ashford Academy's gym, which counted among its alumnus personages such as Lelouch Lamperouge, Nunnally Vi Britannia and Kallen Kozuki.

In essence, Fhajad had blown his brother's anonymous existence of peace and quiet to hell and back. And it was only about to get worse.

**WWW**

Fhajad effortlessly dodged a punch from him before laying in with several blows, just as Navin slugged him in the face, breaking his nose. His neck whipped back with the force of the blow as he staggered back only to feel a flying knee in his sternum before an elbow slammed down on the crown of his head.

He blocked it with his palm and the aid of his telekinesis, forming a force screen before sending his brother flying with a single punch, enhanced with his own telekinesis. He grinned. His brother had improved. He'd actually been forced to use his psychic powers.

"You know what – to hell with rules Navin! Vale tudo!" he exclaimed as he grabbed his brother's shirt only for Navin to slip out of it. Fhajad was rewarded with a powerful left hook that sent him reeling. An expert in numerous martial arts and military combatives, he was fighting with pure instinct, holding back and not using strategy or tactics, giving his brother a chance. He wasn't even using his mind reading, precognition or body reading abilities.

Navin dodged a punch from his brother, blocking it and bringing his elbow down on the extended arm, only to be rewarded with a full body sweep as a swift snap kick slammed into his face before he push kicked his brother opening up a space between them.

His brother switched to Ceylonese Aikijutsu, a Ceylonese-influenced Japanese martial art that had evolved into a defensive art of entangling arm-locks mixed with lighting-quick strikes. Slightly more suited to damage than to blocking movements, he overcame Navin's defences, leaving his face a bloody mess as he slammed an uppercut in followed by an elbow strike.

Navin switched to the offensive. Trained primarily in Krav Maga and Kapap to expert levels, he also had extensively trained in the Chinese martial arts of Mizongyi, Nanquan, Changquan and Taijiquan, along with additional training in the hybrid of Silat Lian Padukan. He was an exceptionally proficient fighter, his style being simple, linear and with the capacity for exceeding brutality.

In a volley of chain punches he penetrated Fhajad's defence only to be overcome by his brother's Ceylonese Taijitsu. Fierce samurai retainers exiled to Ceylon had transformed the ancient disciplines of Taijitsu into a graceful ballet of defensive knife hand parries. Occasional twists and pinning arm-locks gave the martial art some damaging capability, but its primary focus was in essence two things; counterblock and dodge. Fhajad gave a chop to Navin's neck, dropping him to the floor.

"Had enough yet little bro?" he asked condescendingly, panting as he rested his hands on his hips, bent over and panting, blood streaming down his face. Navin balled his fist up and rammed it into Fhajad's temple, taking him by surprise, followed by a head butt to the chest.

**WWW**

Anwar watched the brutal choreography of the fight as the two circled and exchanged kicks, punches, elbows, knees, head butts and stomps. Both siblings were of similar builds, Fhajad taller and bulkier, Navin leaner and more wiry, both just as muscular. They had their father's streamlined build but differed in what they'd inherited from their respective mothers.

In a brutally choreographed flurry of snap kicks and round house kicks that took advantage of his superior mass and strength, Fhajad slammed a shin into Navin's neck and made a full-body sweep, slamming him down to the floor. In a blur of motion Navin twisted and rolled, snapping a kick to Fhajad's knee. Fhajad leapt back, allowing Navin to rise.

"Is that all you can do? Pathetic like your mother the whore. I wonder what our dad saw in your mother?" he mused. "Bet she must have been a good fuck -"

At this point Navin lost it, charging at his brother and tackling him around the midsection, all aggression and berserk rage. Just as Fhajad wanted. And so Fhajad responded.

The ritualized disciplines of Kung Fu remained untainted, elegant, and difficult to master. The art retained its balance for lethality and clever offence, and in its most basic style, rewarded skill and patience over raw strength and aggression.

Fhajad used that to his advantage as he side-stepped Navin and brutally slammed both fists onto his back, knocking him out cold and laying him on the floor. He sighed and placed a foot on his brother's head, tapping it against his bloodstained face before making a final kick to his abdomen, drawing an uttered groan of pain from him.

Even with his cybernetic eyes he still wasn't a match. Pathetic. So utterly pitiful. A shame to their father's legacy. It was highly unfortunate for him at this point that someone swung a thick math textbook into his face.

**WWW**

Kallen raged against this intruder who'd brutally beat up Navin. She slammed the textbook into the stunned man's face one more time before punching the textbook, the force of the blow travelling through it and into his face, breaking his cheekbone.

The man lashed out and barely caught her before another man about her size, hair cropped and eyes fixed in a glare slammed into the other man, flipping him head over heels before palm striking his stomach.

Anwar was a practitioner of Temasek Infighting, as were all Singapore Guardsmen. It was a bastardised hybrid of Sport Muay Thai, Muay Chaiya, Lerdrit and Boxing. This fighting style was not exactly a formalise competitive art , nor was it elegant, disciplined, or graceful. Infighting was born of the desperation of back alleys, and its eye-gouging, rabbit-punching, knee-breaking techniques were testament to that. Its brutal moves rewarded strength slightly more than skill.

In a swift orchestrated combo he laid the man, already stunned by the blow of the heavy textbook, out cold, his palms pile-driving into the man's face and sending him flying in a spray of blood from his mouth. Fhajad landed on the mat unconscious, like his brother across from him.

Both of them laid out in the ring unconscious, Kallen realised that the man looked rather familiar despite the skewed angle of his broken nose and cheekbones. It was at this point that school security guards followed by the kickboxing club seniors and the head coach barged in.

**WWW**

"Given who was involved, the police are going to overlook this incident while Ashford is turning a blind eye and will forego disciplinary action given the exceptional circumstances of the...incident. Medical costs will be covered by the Indian Commonwealth" the diplomat said curtly before leaving the room.

Kallen looked at the semi-conscious Navin lying in bed, his lips stitched up and gashes bandaged. He'd suffered multiple contusions or bruising across his midsection and face, lumpy with the inflammation of tissue. His eyes were swollen from the fight and he'd suffered a moderate concussion or MTBI in medical parlance. The doctors had prescribed bed rest and intended to keep him overnight for observation.

She ran a hand across his cropped hair and sighed. She turned to the man in the corner of the room, the one who'd knocked out the man she now knew to be Lieutenant General Fhajad Sahar, the soon-to-be General Sahar and future Chief-of-Staff of the UFN. Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra, Navin's friend from his days in the resistance. She recognised him vaguely from the photos he'd shown her.

"So they're brothers?" she asked incredulously, amazed at how brutally they'd beaten each other. She heard the mutter of "half-brothers" from Navin as he closed his eyes in a daze. Anwar uncomfortably nodded.

"I've known Navin since he was 13. Known his uncle and brother even longer. Zack taught both of them, trained them as soldiers back in the resistance days. As you can see, they have a somewhat strained relationship..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Strained? That bastard beat up my boyfriend!" Kallen replied angrily.

"They have a very bitter history between them. Same father but different mothers. I'm sure I don't need to mention who their father was?"

"Benjamin 'Black Tiger' Nair. Tohdoh used to talk about him sometimes" Kallen stated, looking back at her boyfriend. She was beginning to understand why he was so reluctant to talk about his past, about his family, simply saying that he'd lost them in the war. He'd lived in his father's and brother's shadow from the time he was young.

"_No wonder you never talked about them Navin. You only talked about your uncle and aunt, about how they brought you up. You never could get along with your brother. All your happiness lay with them. Not with your brother. Not like me...."_ she thought as she looked at him sleeping peacefully on his bed. He was so congenial and likeable, a genuinely nice guy that everyone could get along with.

Not the most ambitious person but a steady rock, he'd given her a solid anchor in her life. He wasn't cold or uncaring, not a martyr nor a saint. He had his faults like his occasional clumsiness or his talents like his cooking but despite everything he was consistent.

He made horribly bad jokes on occasion and sometimes spoke without thinking but he was a guy everyone could get along with. In the time she'd known him, she could see that what attracted her to him was his zest and humour, his authenticity.

He wasn't afraid to show his true self, to show his emotions. For all his faults he was an honest man who kept his promises. It was just that he didn't want to talk about his past.

He was intelligent and could hold a conversation with her, was passionate about what he believed in but kept an open mind. He was tolerant and accepting of others. He didn't show off or act. He had a genuinely good heart, a compassionate core that drew others to him.

In many ways similar to Lelouch but also different. Lelouch had always had a charisma, a force of personality, a bombastic sense of being and sheer audacity that made the impossible possible. But with Lelouch there had always been a sense of detachment, a lonely figure who stood alone, unbending against the tides.

She'd loved Lelouch on many levels, idolised him initially. Lelouch and Zero were two distinct personalities in their own right. She'd respected him and come to love him, only for her own heart to betray her as she'd remembered his words to her, on the night of that blue moon, in the South China Sea.

_Lelouch met with Kallen's gaze, lifting her chin up to look at him before she looked away. His lingering touch sent shivers down her spine before she looked at his eyes hopefully. He looked away, unable to meet her hopeful eyes as he told her the truth._

"_Kallen...I can't. Because you don't love me. You love Zero. You love the mask. You love an ideal, a man whose acted on a stage. You__ love me as a character in your story, in your play, and that's not who I am and someone I can never be. I never auditioned for that part, and the play is not one that would end up good for us. It wouldn't end well for you. Not with my fate. If you listen to the drama you're describing, you're asking for a gift I could never give you. You deserve better." _

**WWW**

"You're in love with him aren't you?" Anwar asked, looking at her knowingly. She snapped back to reality and realised she'd been running her hands over his hair before blushing slightly.

"Well, we've only been dating a month and...well...we've got chemistry. I've never felt so comfortable with someone. He's just to consistent and he's...you know...." she exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders.

Anwar nodded. They made a good couple and sometimes one could sense the X-factor among people, that undefinable entity that bonded them. He'd only known his wife for three months before proposing, knowing that they were destined and they were still going strong more than ten years on. Despite the exterior of a cynic, he was a romantic at heart. His own parents had an arranged marriage and had found a compassionate love later on as they'd settled with each other.

"What was he like growing up?" she asked, curious about Navin. She stared at Anwar, this man who seemed to know of that _otherness_ that Navin seemed to have. A link to his past. She looked at him, seeking explanation for the relationship between him and Fhajad, his own brother.

She wanted to know more about his past. It was a rude shock to have it come up so suddenly. His father was famous or infamous depending on your perspective. Benjamin Nair had been a nightmare for the Chinese Federation and the High Eunuchs, even well after his death when he'd become a martyr figure for the resistance. Fhajad Sahar was aristocracy and celebrity combined, every inch the man his father was and surpassing him in so many ways.

Anwar began with a smile, remembering the early days. As harsh and unpredictable as they were, he still held fond memories of them.

"He was a lonely boy when I first met him. He witnessed his parents murdered. The first time I saw him I was in my early 20's. I was an enlistee then, only an enlisted man. Senior in my platoon. Corporal First Class. He was a scared young boy living in the base with us, going to the school with the other children. I'd just gotten married to my wife then. He lived with our liaisons Alamgir Netanyu and Rania Sabri. He supplied us with munitions and food, helped to fund us. He's Benjamin Nair's elder brother. Navin's uncle."

**WWW**

_Anwar ran around the base, his infant daughter asleep in the baby sling he wore. Much like the Republic of Taiwan and Riau Federation, consisting of the Malayan Peninsula, Singapore, the Riau Sultanate and the Brunei Sultanate, the island of Sri Lanka or Ceylon was considered independent of Chinese rule, thought the Chinese declared otherwise. As it was the Chinese Federation were too occupied trying to maintain control of the Aksai Chin plateau, Tibet and Kashmir. _

_The maps may have shown India to be under their rule but South Asia was relatively free of their domination. They were too busy maintaining their military strength along their Pacific coasts and quelling the unrest caused by the massive poverty in China proper to worry, along with fortifying their borders with the Arabian territories and in South East Asia which was slowly slipping free of the rule of the Chinese. _

_The Britannian Empire was a bigger concern, what with the rebellions in the Korean Peninsula and Indonesian Archipelago, with Britannian troops massing in Japan, just a stone's throw from Mainland China. All of them were funded discretely by India, Australia and New Zealand, covert intelligence and munitions delivered to the rebel cells operating there._

_He noticed a young boy sitting alone under the tree, smiling sadly as he threw stones at a pond. A new boy who'd come to the base. He watched the boy sit in the corner of the field, observing the other boys playing soccer with coconuts while soldiers did their rounds around an obstacle course. _

"_Hey boy? Why are you sitting there watching them play? Go join them" Anwar said gruffly, looking at the boy then pointing at the field. He just looked so out of place in the camp. _

_The boy shook his head. At that point Anwar shrugged and began to jog, his daughter bouncing as he ran up the slope. As he reached the crest of it he heard someone following him and turned around to see the boy panting as he ran up the slope, trying to catch up._

_Anwar slowed down and tried not to smile. He slowed down his pace and let the boy jog beside him till they reached the canteen. Taking out his wallet, he bought a few items from the tuck shop before looking at the boy who'd followed him like a stray dog. Anwar simply shook his head and let the boy be. He turned to him and passed him some spare change to buy some sweets._

"_What's your name?"_

"_Navin" the boy replied timidly._

"_Where do you stay in camp?"_

_The boy pointed at a house built in the British colonial style. " I'm staying with Aunty Rania."_

_Anwar nodded. So this was Rania Sabri's nephew?_

"_Your parents?"_

"_They're dead" the boy replied very matter of factly, shrugging his shoulders. To him it was a natural. Other children had parents, a mum and dad. He had his uncle and aunt._

"_How old are you?" Anwar asked, curious now._

"_Ten."_

"_And why are you following me?" Anwar finally asked._

"_I'm just curious. I've never seen any guy run around with a baby like that and...well...yeah! Just curious" the boy chirped up._

_Anwar laughed and tousled Navin's head, letting him follow him back to his own small tenement. Over time he found that the boy followed him because his presence, running around like that with his daughter, reminded him of his oft-absent uncle. Simply because he resembled Alamgir._

**WWW**

Navin murmured in his sleep as he opened his eyes and saw the white ceiling, smelt the sterile air of the hospital around him, the smell of lemon disinfectant disseminating through the room. He heard a steady breathing and turned to look to the side.

Half-asleep on the chair was Kallen. She'd chosen to stay overnight and her jacket lay draped across her. A message from Anwar was clutched in his hand, the piece of crumpled paper stained with coffee spilt as he drunk it.

"You never told me you had a brother Navin" Kallen said as she stirred. She reached out and clasped his hand, stroking a hand across his brow.

"Are you okay?"

He replied with a smile. "As okay as one can be with a concussion. I've been through worse."

Kallen nodded. "Your friend Anwar told me about your eyes. How come you never told me?"

He shook his head. "What would it have done? There's no point in dwelling on a past that's not important."

"So losing your eyes or having a horrible relationship with your brother isn't important? Being the son of Ben Nair isn't something you could tell me? Being a royal prince by association with the future emperor of the Indian Raj and being related to Britannia's Imperial Family and the Romanov monarchy of Russia through your mother's family? All these _little_ details you didn't bother to share with me? Being the nephew of Alamgir Netanyahu of Amistad Enterprises?"

Navin sat up and made himself comfortable. "You've been talking to Anwar a fair bit haven't you?'

Kallen nodded. Anwar was an interesting person to talk to. He had a lot of stories from his time in the army and could be rather passionate about his chosen topics. He was surprisingly well-read for the average military man, almost a warrior-poet.

"Would it have mattered, knowing that I don't have to work to support myself, that I'm already a billionaire thanks to my trust fund and my share in Amistad Enterprises? That my brother's a prick?" he said heatedly.

Navin had tried to distance himself from that past. He intended to stand on his own accomplishments, with his own work. He'd grown up in the shadow of his father and brother long enough. Everywhere he went people compared them. Never his own merits which were decent enough, but always it came back to being in their shadow.

"You've tried to escape the legacy haven't you? But it always comes back to get you. Like this afternoon. Why are you so hostile to your brother? I'm trying to understand Navin. I really am. I'd like to make this longer-term you know. As in...well, really going steady. Anwar was good enough to not tell me but said to ask you."

"Good old Anwar. He knows when not to talk. I'll tell you Kallen. Another time. It's just that right now I'm quite tired and looking forward to some shut-eye. I hope you don't mind. We can talk about something else though" Navin said. Kallen sighed and settled back into the chair. She wasn't going to get anything more out of him about his brother or family but that was up to him.

**WWW**

Sophia applied the cotton bud to his lip before pressing the peroxide soaked patch into it. The flesh was already knitting back together as Fhajad focused his psychic powers within himself, altering his cells in conjunction with a psycho-kinesthetic awareness as he repaired the internal damage. He smiled grimly. His brother had improved.

"Why do you insist on treating your brother that way Fhajad? Its stupid. I can't begin to understand but he's your _brother. _Your blood. I'd rather you ally with him. Then at least we have a wealthy ally. If not for emotional reasons then at least for practical ones" Sophia calmly commented.

Twelfth in line to the throne, she'd gone through the renowned Sau Paulo Business University and gained a first class honours reading economics and law. She was a highly educated woman of elegance who was as capable of piloting a K-Frame competently as she was capable of running a large business.

She was a woman accustomed to her wealth and worked to gain it, an avid venture capitalist and entrepreneur who'd formed business alliances with various European conglomerates and Asian business cartels, seeking to fund private space exploration.

She had multiple business interests in the nations of the Taipei Axis, an alliance consisting of the Taiwan Republic, Riau Federation, Thailand, Sri Lankan Protectorate and Israel Mandate. An alliance of military, scientific and economic interests, these small nations acted as a coalition to protect their common interests and to pool their resources, intent on expanding into the unbound frontier that was space.

She had no qualms leveraging on her position as Fhajad's lover to invest favourably in the Indian Commonwealth and had successfully made it to the list of the worlds richest people as a multi-billionaire. She was among the richest women in Britannia's domains though felt no need to flaunt it.

"If my father hadn't disgraced my mother by consorting with that French woman and producing my half-brother, he would still be alive. He died no thanks to my brother's existence. The Sahar family could have protected him. We had the means. He rejected them and chose life with _that_ woman instead. I have every right to blame my brother" he said, traces of bitterness evident in his tone.

"That's immature. It was a joint operation by the Chinese Federation and the Britannian Empire that killed him. Ben Nair presented a threat due to his status. Elements of your family helped kill him off against your mother's wishes but you had them liquidated Fhajad. They're dead. You were only 19 then. You couldn't do anything. Navin isn't to blame" she said reasonably.

"Indulge me. It's one of the few pleasures I get. To see my brother as a teacher is a waste. He can be so much more. He was happy in the military. He had purpose. And now he's only a mere teacher in some school in Tokyo. A waste of his talent."

"Perhaps if you hadn't tried to prod and push him so much, or if you didn't insult his mother, or try to manipulate him or -" Sophia said before he put a finger to her lips.

"I understand. You don't need to rub it in further Sophia. It's just..."

Fhajad sighed heavily and shook his head. His brother...he loved him but sometimes...he really hated him. Every time he looked at him he saw a man who was every inch the man he would have liked to be, free of responsibility and unburdened by heritage. What he did was because of duty. He had a duty to become emperor, compelled by heritage, honour and reason.

He got up as he felt a familiar tingle at the edge of his awareness, a slight ticklish sensation at the back of his mind. "If you'll excuse me for a bit. I've got something to attend to."

"A psychic _something?_" Sophia asked knowingly, eyebrow arched.

"It's him" was all Fhajad replied with.

**WWW**

"Azaluhaiz. I didn't know you liked to get involved in such matters. Especially for one such as you, an Ul-"

Aziz looked at him without smiling, cutting off his statement. He disliked references to things better left unsaid. Fhajad bowed respectfully towards the one he'd called Azaluhaiz, eyes averted slightly. One exercised caution in matters involving beings of his nature, inherently unpredictable as they were. En Sabah Nur had commented as much.

Aziz Zahedi was a wild card and with his companion Raven Roth, he was best left alone. If their adult children were any indication, as was Aziz's children from unions with other consorts, it was far better not to provoke their ire given who they were and what they were capable of. Aziz's reputation preceded him, especially of those who knew him. Alamgir maintained civil ties with him but Aziz was otherwise neutral and utterly unconcerned, intervening only where it suited some unknown's agenda.

After all, the Arbitrator of the Diamond Lotus was a man to be wary of, especially so when he was unaffected by either Code, Geass, Mantle or Engai. Neither psi nor sorcery could affect him, for he existed as a balance to the power of En Sabah Nur and the Grand Master, to prevent conflict and abuse of power. He was the mortal check and balance to the power of immortals, an element introduced by powers that even En Sabah Nur deferred to.

They stood on the open balcony of the sky bar, watching the Tokyo skyline brimming with points of light as skyscrapers rose all around them.

"I can't say I'm interested in what ever is going on in this world. Its not my burden to carry. Living a life like this is a comparative heaven compared to prior experiences" Aziz said, leaning back against the railing.

"Just out of curiosity, how did you get here? Weren't you in Europe?" Fhajad asked.

"Sorcery. Magic. Science. Technology. Mysticism. But otherwise I flew here on those new supersonic jets. Synchronicity works for my benefit. I'm simply in the right place at the right time when I desire it. That and a little bit of physical magic helps. Along with knowing the right people."

"So you're aware of the situation?"

"I'm aware of all the players Fhajad. You'll be interested to know that I came across Lelouch vi Britannia. A most excellent chess master. I know everything I need to know or want to know. I simply choose not to act on it as its not my burden. Incidentally, expect Alamgir to come looking for you."

"Uncle Al? Shit. That old man barely wants to see me, let alone speak to me. Aunt Rania was always the reasonable one compared to him. He still blames me and my mother for what happened to dad."

Aziz shrugged. It wasn't his problem nor his concern. Benjamin had made a choice and chosen to live with the consequences.

"You don't sound surprised that Lelouch is alive" Aziz said, observing Fhajad who'd been named for his own son.

"Should I be? Miguel was my teacher. He taught me everything I know about espionage and then some. I have my own links with the Diamond Lotus. I have my own agenda and they can help me with that."

Aziz turned to leave, opening the door before Fhajad stopped him, clutching at his shirt tightly. Realising _whose _shirt he held, Fhajad slowly released his hold on it.

"What's your interest in this? Alamgir and En Sabah Nur always said to beware of the Ulthaj. Why are you helping me? What do you gain from all this?" Fhajad said, staring him straight in the eyes, hazel against amber-grey ones.

Aziz graced him with a mysterious look before he spoke.

"Schneizel is an honourable man. Well-intentioned, he would make an excellent emperor for he is a man without totalitarian ambition. His greatest priority is the protection of Britannia and its people and in this he can be ruthless. He simply sees ascension to the throne as the best way to ensure this. He is not without ideals for he is dedicated to the ideal of duty and service. However others in Britannia seek to restore Britannia's supremacy. Look at those around Schneizel. Look especially at those around the Empress."

"I thought you said you didn't help? That it didn't matter to you?"

"It doesn't to me at all Fhajad. But knowing this, what will you do? " said Aziz as he left. Let Benjamin's son take his actions. He made an informed choice in doing what he did. All else was of no concern to him.

He paused before turning to regard Fhajad. "Alamgir is the new En Sabah Nur. The old one is dead, killed by exhaustion of his powers. We are entering a crisis. I presume nothing when I advise that you ally with Alamgir and drop the adversarial attitude between the both of you."

"You proclaim neutrality yet you seek to advise me? Contradiction in your words and actions for an impartial arbitrator."

"Stop being a smartass. You'll get a prize out of this if you do follow the advice."

"And what is that?"

"You and your loved ones survive the coming storm."

**WWW**

Amshel rejoiced at the feel of his new body. They'd removed his brain and placed it in a preservation canister. His new body was far better, a superior construct of ceramics, polymer composite, metal matrix composite and hyperalloy held together with optical fibres and femtotechnology.

Femtotechnology was the structuring of matter on a femtometre scale, by analogy with nanotechnology and picotechnology. It involved the manipulation of excited energy states within atomic nuclei to produce metastable (or otherwise stabilized) states with unusual properties. In essence, it allowed matter to be edited to produce such products as a metal that couldn't be broken, or could only be deformed by something that produced as much energy as a small nuclear bomb on impact.

In essence it fulfilled the third law of the trio established by the honourable Britannian science fiction author and aristocrat, Earl Arthur Charles Clarke, a former ace pilot of the Britannian Imperial Air Force and among the first to advocate racial equality, humanism and secularism within the Imperial Court. It stated simply that 'advanced technological progress of great magnitude is indistinguishable to and in fact can replace what one may term supernatural magic'.

Femtotechnology simply took this law and injected it with performance-enhancing drugs that allowed it to rocket into orbit.

"Incredible isn't it Hera? I can smash through concrete and tear apart tanks with this body. I'm literally like Heracles of Greek myth. Thank your engineers for me. They've outdone themselves."

"More like Heracles on phencyclidine. Nothing short of an 80 millimetre depleted uranium hypervelocity round could breach your torso. You could survive at the bottom of the Marianas Trench or the Sigsby Deep in that body."

His eyes widened. He switched his body on and off, willing it to his actions. It was beautiful. He could have cloned a new biological body and enhance it but had chosen this instead. He looked up at the enthroned Hera, the sign of the Code of Immortality upon her brow, concealed by her flowing hair.

His greatest success, he'd made many attempts to induce a Code, failing repeatedly until he'd hit upon the idea of splicing the genetic material of both Caramia Maras and Rania Sabri. The greatest of his 'children', she'd swiftly eclipsed him, for she held within her the natural psychic abilities of Rania, only without the enhancement that came with being a Master of the Mantle, as well as the residual effects of C.C.'s own possession of the Code.

Enough so much so that she'd possessed her own Code from birth. An engineered miracle born of the fruit of human technology and science. The truly 'special ingredient' in her genetic code was a tainted fragment he'd obtained from the mysterious Arbitrator of the Diamond Lotus, a shadowy figure whose existence was as a neutral party, a check on the powers of the Grand Master and En Sabah Nur should there ever be abuse.

Somehow, the Arbitrator possessed thousands upon thousands of chromosomes, exhibiting something far beyond the usual human genetics. An anomaly, yet after all his failures he'd been desperate and into the embryo he'd introduced a fragment of a random chromosome, seeing no harm in observing the effect. The result had been Hera and her raw ability, far beyond anything he'd hoped for.

He'd raised Hera over the years, watching her work her way into the Imperial Court and now she stood side by side with Prime Minister Schneizel as his lover and counsel, his confidante and counterpoint.

But what was especially beautiful was the fact that her children had been born with the Code, maturing until they reached their mid-20's. Every natural child born of her retained the strongest qualities of either parent, the weaknesses eradicated ruthlessly from the genetics, a function of the dormant psychic powers of the mother as it protected the developing child.

Initially he had nurtured her but soon she had surpassed him. And over time, Amshel had come to worship this woman who called him her father. His finest creation, he saw himself as her greatest follower. The ancient titan to the Olympian goddess she was. The next step in human evolution.

And what parent couldn't want more than to aid their child in gaining for them the blessing of godhood? For she had the Code of Immortality. Now all that was needed was to gain a Geass and that final ingredient; the power of the Mantle.

In the walls of the hardened bunker beyond, vats filled with clones of the three legends of history twitched in their induced sleep, nanites subtly altering their neural pathways as circuits of silicon and layers of ceramic carbide became affixed to their bones, their genes spliced with Hera's own.

Soon, she would move. To restore Britannia's supremacy and hegemony. To pave the path to power. For her beloved. For the father of her child. For Schneizel.

Hera had a lingering smile on her face as she watched her 'father' marvel at his body. It would be an appropriate gift to Schneizel. An empire on the eve of her ascension to godhood. All according to her plan. She wondered how surprised Schneizel would be....and giggled.

**WWW**

Besides the evident power to skew synchronicity to his favour, Aziz exhibited an ability to see paths of causality to their ultimate conclusion, allowing him to alter events to prevent or cause certain occurrences. Not that he really cared to exercise such power.

As he boarded the plane, eager to return back home to Raven and the twins, he allowed himself a smile. The letter would be reaching Amshel right about now. And that was all that was needed to set things in motion.

A world away, Amshel opened the envelope. As he read it, his artificial body began to shiver, artificial glands throughout his body secreting cortisol, heartbeat increasing in alarm. For in the message came a photograph with two simple words; _I know._

_And the photograph slowly dropped to the floor, revealing a sombre face. Of the man Amshel feared more than any other, in heaven, hell or earth. The man who lived in his nightmares, the all-knowing eyes staring out of the photo. _

Miguel de Silva.

_**A/N: The character Aziz comes from End of Despair: Innocence, my other story. One and the same. Yes, I'm advertising it. No, he won't have a major role. I just like linking them together with a thread of continuity.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**WWW**

Alamgir relaxed back into the chair, steeping his hands together as he let their fingertips meet, separate and meet again, contemplating the events transpiring around him. In front of him sat Fhajad.

"So....Uncle Alamgir...it's been years since we last met" started Fhajad before Alamgir fixed him with a stare and silenced him.

"I received news about how your brother Navin ended up in the hospital. Seems he got into a fight and suffered a moderate concussion and no small amount of internal bruising. Now, Navin is a superb fighter, one of the best. Trained by Anwar Ramachandra as well as by Miguel, there's a reason he was considered one of the elite, whether as a naval diver or pilot. Now who beat him up? That is a question I already know the answer to."

Fhajad's eyes narrowed. "In answer to that, I'm sure you know that I did that. But that isn't the point of my coming -"

"Oh but there is a point. Humans, even immortal humans, are by definition irrational creatures. Now...Fhajad, try and read my mind. We'll stop this useless talking because so much more gets accomplished via telepathy than speech."

_You little swine! How dare you hurt Navin! Be glad that it's me and not Rania you're meeting today. _

_Please Uncle Al. Navin's __only__ my half-brother, just like Altair. Except that his whore of a mother was responsible for father's death. I'm sure you can relate- _

_No. I don't relate to you at all boy. And perhaps you'd best stop calling Alice a whore. She was a close friend of mine___ Alamgir mentally snarled, even if his face was as blank as a poker champion's own.

Fhajad kept his composure, a slight grin glancing his face. He liked prodding Uncle Al. It was most productive and humorous. But he had to remember who he was dealing with. The _En Sabah Nur_ and Grand Master of the Mantle and of the Diamond Lotus.

"So that's how you want to play it old man? I'm the most powerful psychic in the world. You think you can offend me and get away with it? I'm the Black Tiger."

"Not the most powerful. No. You've got the power but you don't have the prowess to match me yet. Your brother Altair is in a different league than you. As for the most powerful....look at those surrounding Aziz. Look at Altair and his son. I suggest you tread carefully with him."

_I suggest you tread very carefully with me. You don't know my capabilities. Like this…_

Fhajad forced himself to relax, sinking back into his chair as he mused on the situation. That had been unexpected, the sudden pain he'd experienced. Alamgir had broken his psi shields. Not a good sign. He met his uncle's gaze once more.

_From young I was trained to lead and rule. As a tiger in the jungle I rule by day and night with claw and fang and wit. Benjamin Nair, my father, abandoned his duty to his country and let himself be killed for the sake of some woman, some French noblewoman with links to the Romanovs, even though he wasn't in a position to do so. He placed her welfare above his own. India needed him and he abandoned it. It was __**me**__ who redeemed his name and legacy. It was __**me**__ who rose to the challenge and made the choice to serve the greater good and rule India. It was what I was __**born**__ for. He even abandoned the Diamond Lotus out of love for my mother, forsaking an immortal life to be with her._

A tense silence filled the air between them as they eyed each other, waiting for the other to make the move.

_To despise your brother and father as much as you do....you respected your father tremendously. That's the only way I can explain the depth to which you hate Navin._

Fhajad smiled.

_How couldn't I? He was my father. Every boy sees his father as a pillar of strength, this invincible figure shrouded in this aura of power. Invincible. Untouchable. No. I surpassed him. He was a hero who did so much for the people he adopted. He made the imperial ambitions of my mother's own family a possibility. We of the Sahar were born to rule and you know that to be true. You've seen the future. You know that down the path I seek lies a golden age where no human will ever suffer the hardships of poverty and no child will ever go hungry. Just as the Silver King of Ebenoch walked that path, just as it is maintained by those on the Golden Throne. Just like the Arbitrator._

_So you seek a better world? Just like the Emperor Charles with his Britannian Darwinian Socialism? Just like Adolf Hitler more than a century ago with his idealistic drive to make Germany great by getting into a war with Russia that I had to negotiate an end to and avert a holocaust of the Jews? Like so many others before you, you will fail. Humans are creatures of free will that require chaos in their lives whether they like it or not. The Arbitrator...he is a special case_

_Isn't the Diamond Lotus there to serve humanities needs?_

_Our purpose is known. We serve to have a thread of continuity, to watch and observe from afar. We don't seek direct power though we are capable of direct means if need be. Lord Azaluhaiz founded the first Diamond Lotus for that purpose long ago in a universe far away. Given time the ones here will gain that technology. But for now they aren't ready._

_ So now to the main topic dear uncle. I propose an alliance between the Sahar dynasty and the Diamond Lotus. As it is you face trying times with so many of your own dead. Even the Arbitrator himself came to see me._

Alamgir smiled. Aziz played both sides of the coin. Aziz was no doubt a bastard in the metaphotical sense of the word. And a magnificent one at that, if any of the stories he knew about him from the experiences and memories he'd absorbed from Aslan were anything to go by.

His identity was in no doubt but that simply made him an anomaly. He wasn't immortal. He wasn't even immune to death. But he had secrets deeper than the ocean and Aziz intended to keep it that way. Alamgir felt no need to prod. The last Ulthaj in existence, or at least a very pale shade of it was best dealt with from a distance.

_The Arbitrator is a mystery as he intends. He's not immortal like us. He's...something else. He also came to see me and told me all that I needed to know. You need help in keeping control of the rebels colluding with the wild psychics in India, a result of your botched supersoldier program. You need our technology. We need an independent base from which to operate, preferably a hidden one, given what I have planned. We all have our interests. In return, we'll aid you to a limited extent in pushing for your imperial dream. _

Fhajad nodded. So the cards were laid on the table. Now it was time to negotiate.

**WWW**

A dark look came over Schneizel's face as he contemplated the problems facing them. The planned summit in Tokyo, traditionally held in the neutral territory of Oslo in Norway had been meant as a peace sign, a show of reconciliation.

It had been proposed by Nunnally as an avenue to negotiate a binding peace treaty as well as impose strategic arms limitations. In the past five years the military capabilities of the EU, UFN and Britannia had grown by leaps and bounds along with their economies but with the emergence of actors such as the Indian Commonwealth, the Andaman Axis and the African League onto the world stage, certain issues had to be negotiated.

Among them was the sheer number of nuclear warheads possessed by India as well as their growing military strength, especially so in their navy. On the Atlantic front Britannia dominated the South Atlantic and controlled most of South America aside from insurgent groups based in the Amazon region.

However their power was contested by packs of German submarines who constantly shadowed Britannia's carrier groups. This was similarly the case in the Middle East and North Africa where the powers of the European Union, Britannia and the emergent Indian Commonwealth met.

In southern and central Africa as well as the South Pacific Britannia's regional supremacy was unchallenged due to Australia and New Zealand acting as their base from which they projected their forces into the Antarctic and South Pacific.

But here again they were challenged by the might of the Indonesian Confederation, the Taipei Axis and the Indian Commonwealth. In the Indian Ocean itself the uncontested rulers were the Indian Commonwealth with their combination of submarine packs and carrier battle groups that patrolled the sea lanes from the shores of Oceania to the tip of Cape Town.

Further complicating this was Sophia yu Britannia's impending marriage to Fhajad Sahar, the future Emperor of the Indian Raj which stretched from the protectorates of Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan to the Indo-Chinese lands of Burma and Thailand.

He was a master strategist in the political and diplomatic arena's who'd masterfully drawn the Taipei Axis to his side and managed to unite the one and a half billion people of the Indian Commonwealth together, building on the legacy of his father Benjamin 'Black Tiger' Nair and his predecessor General Mohandas 'Peacemaker' Gandhi, a lawyer who'd laid the foundations for Indian independences.

Hera entered his office then. His wife and closest confidante, she'd been instrumental in aiding him fight off the effects of the Geass upon him, that had violated his will, the very essence of his being. A Mediterranean beauty of luscious curves at her hips and bosom, a woman in the flowering of her youth.

Very much the intellectual match he so desired in a companion, she'd used her feminine wiles to attract his attention amongst the various women who strove to attract him among the ladies of the court. A woman of Greek descent, Hera Manos was the adopted daughter of Amshel Goldsmith, a major industrialist and renowned philanthropist.

Schneizel had also known him as a racist bastard who'd despised Jews, Africans, Arabs, Indians, Chinese and mostly everyone who didn't fulfil his standards of racial purity, skewed as they were. Suffice to say, Miguel de Silva with his South American, Spanish and North African descent hadn't gotten on well with Amshel.

That same friction carried over with Hera. With Hera, Miguel was polite and reserved, quiet and restrained in his speech around her. For Schneizel's own sake as it was, Miguel reserved a certain dislike for her all the same. Their antagonism during family meals was subtle, a tension underlying some unspoken truce.

She settled her hands on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss him on the head. "What's wrong Schneizel?"

Hera was a telepath of the first order and an intelligent woman, a strong-willed Amazon who forced things from idea through to reality by sheer force of presence and ruthlessness. Wily as she was beautiful, there had been a certain commonality of traits in the other that had attracted them to the other over time, independent of Schneizel's status as a prince.

"We have to negotiate over several major issues Hera. First off is the nuclear munitions. Ever since we got the FLEIA device every other nation has been stockpiling nuclear devices like they're going out of fashion. Second is the issue of space. The UFN and EU have been talking of colonies in lunar orbit and on Mars and Venus but we're trying to restrict those. But its the super-soldier programs that are the most worrying. I'm just so tired from dealing with them. Nunnally is trying too hard to gain a consensus which won't occur. We need to negotiate from a position of strength or else less that supremacy ebbs. We -"

_Did you even need to tell me beloved? You have so many burdens upon your shoulders. All because of that incompetent Empress Nunnally ..._

_Don't go there Hera. I have my reasons to serve, to feign my Geass and you know that...you know better than anyone why I have to follow her. What the Hindu's call dharma. I have no choice. Not since Lelouch....what he did to me....violated me with the Geass..._

A pensive look came to his face as he remembered the commands of Zero, of Suzaku Kururugi. Of the countless times he'd been forced to compromise the interests of Britannia. Forced against his very will to weaken his people, his nation. _His pride_.

Hera turned the chair around, swivelling it to face her, examining his aristocratic features that left so many women breathless with envy. Schneizel was one of those rare men whom the term 'beautiful' could be applied to. He had a certain elegance about him that made men and women gravitate towards him, a rare..._grace_.

If anything Hera was a woman of beauty and she _knew _it. She was not afraid to use it to her advantage, capitalising on her looks to achieve her aims. With sultry eyes and coal-black hair she was a contrast to the angular lines and flowing gold hair of Schneizel. As a couple they made an impressive appearance.

She leaned in and kissed him, her own hungry lips finding his as she sought to ease his worries, to make him forget, her dress slipping from her shoulder as she eased herself into his lap. She gave a low moan as he began to place butterfly kisses at the juncture of her neck and collarbone. She squirmed in his lap, another low moan emanating from her before -

"Mama. Papa. What're you doing?"

Their intimacy was abruptly destroyed as their youngest, Amanda, named for Schneizel's own mother, walked into his office carrying a teddy bear. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking inquisitively at them, head tilted to the left. She had her father's blonde hair but her mother's chiselled features, a true beauty in the imperial way.

"Mummy had a cut and I was making it better by kissing it" Schneizel quickly said, smoothly and efficiently lifting the slipped shoulder of Hera's dress back to its proper place. An irritated look passed over his face as it quickly settled back into the paternal patience he effected around his children.

"What sort of cut?"

"A cut from shaving" Schneizel said as he picked her up and carried her out of his office. Hera sat forlornly on the office seat, a sullen look on her face. Who needed birth control when children killed any possibility of romance? Still, Schneizel _definitely _knew what he was doing when they were in bed. Of course, her children were guranteed a place as heirs to the throne with the way things were working out.

Most of the Imperial family were dead with the only living members being Schneizel, Cornelia and Nunnally with that rogue Lelouch clone out there. The only wild card to her plans. The greatest impediment to what her dreams were was the Diamond Lotus and perhaps the new Indian Shah in particular. They would be solved with time.

She slowly fingered the necklace around her neck, a product of the technology caches that Amshel had created using knowledge copied from the Diamond Lotus archives. It projected a slight holographic field around her face, blurring and concealing the mark of the Code.

She smiled as she considered her advantage. She possessed sophisticated biotechnology and nanotechnology currently twenty years ahead of what any other country possessed. She also had the advantage of established psi technology. After Amshel's 'death' and the securing of the archives by the Diamond Lotus, other things had to take action.

The upcoming summit in Tokyo was the perfect fulcrum point, the pebble which would start the avalanche. In this case though, the avalanche had started long ago. With cunningly planted spies and agents who didn't even know they were her agents thanks to telepathic and intense hypnotic suggestions combined with certain subconscious trigger words along with the use of her Geass to rewrite memories, they were innocents who couldn't even remember her. She'd subverted most of Britannia's and the UFN's intelligence apparatus, even evading detection by the Master of Assassins himself, who didn't even think to suspect her. She was the wife of the man he loved as a son after all.

"Human beings are so short-sighted and men so easily manipulated" she said to no one in particular as she stood up and left the office. Her Schneizel was no exception.

**WWW**

Kallen perspired heavily as she moved around the gold Indra model in front of her. Named for the Hindu god of war and storms, she moved back to back with Zero whom she knew to be Suzaku. There was no other way it couldn't be him, what with the way he moved so lightly and quickly. Where he fought by instinct with an animal ferocity tempered by cunning, Kallen fought with a tactical awareness, a calculating eye and keen resourcefulness tempered with instinct that made her just _that_ much better than him.

The gold Indra bore imperial markings, the embossed heraldry of a black tiger head that stood triumphant over a globe. It was the sign of the Sahar Family, the imperial dynasty of the Indian Commonwealth, a symbol of immense wealth and political clout.

Within seconds it was over as the Red Queen and the former Knight of Zero found themselves outmaneuvered by the Black Tiger, a swift Slash Harken barb ramming through her Gurren's arm while a giant chain-axe swung into the Lancelot, diamond-hard teeth biting into armour and circuitry.

His personal guards followed closely, wielding progressive spears and microwave-vibration blades in their own Indra's. Indra K-Frames were the latest evolution of Knightmare Frame technology, the latest invention of Rakshata Chawla who now headed the entire science ministry, answerable only to the Shah Emperor of the Commonwealth.

With precise coordination they targeted the servomotors in Zero's legs and arms, disabling the actuators while Fhajad dealt with Kallen personally, parrying her blows and throwing her Guren to the floor, repeatedly lifting and slamming her against the concrete, jarring her from her seat in the cockpit.

With a signalling of submission the sparring session ended as the audience began to clap. Crawling from her pod and climbing down, Kallen heard the polite applause of the audience who'd assembled to watch the spectacle. Despite her duties as XO of the reservist battalion charged with overseeing security of the perimeter, a request had come from Fhajad to spar with the Red Queen herself and test her mettle in combat.

Zero pulled himself from his pod before retreating to the side of Empress Nunnally who stood at the sidelines with her half-sister, Eleventh Princess Sophia yu Britannia. Hera Manos, Princess-Consort to His Majesty Schneizel III was in attendance in her capacity as his representative. Miguel de Silva stood in the shadows along with the security staff, silent and unobtrusive.

She remembered Xingke's comments regarding him.

"_Mark Miguel. The manners of a gentleman but the mind of a killer. There's a reason they call the the 'Master of Assassins'. I think the fact that Schneizel and Fhajad are the way they are in large part due to formative years spent under his tutelage. That says enough about him. A dangerous man who educated men just as dangerous if not more so than him."_

Her thoughts were interrupted as Fhajad spoke from on high.

**WWW**

"I congratulate you on your excellent performance. I can see why Navin takes to you. He always had a thing for warrior women. A woman of the Stadtfeld pedigree no less" Fhajad said as he came down from his Knightmare, foot secure in the stand of the lift rope.

Kallen politely smiled at him. It wouldn't do to insult an imperial ruler to his face while his three bodyguards stood there. The _Kshatriyas_ as they were named were the personal silencers and enforcers of Fhajad. Faces concealed behind sable masks and visors, they wore visible body armour in gold and black colours, more a way to distinguish them to outsiders and to serve as a warning that the Emperor was present.

The crowning had been a low-key affair but it was official. Kallen was now going out with the half-brother of the Indian Shah-Emperor of an empire that stretched from the domain of Burma in the east to the protectorates of Iraq and Iran in the west.

Which to Kallen's mind just greatly fucked up her life by bringing unwanted media attention to herself. She could see now why Navin had been keen on maintaining his anonymity and privacy. Aside from the legacy of his father, it became quite difficult to live a normal life when under media scrutiny. Of all the freedom fighters, only she and Shinichiro had been able to live anything close to a normal life.

"I'm honoured that the Emperor of India himself would deign to spar with one such as myself" she said politely, if coldly. The memory of his fight with Navin still fresh in mind, she noted how he had none of the scars and cuts that Navin had, even two weeks later.

"Come and walk with me Major. Would you prefer to be addressed as Major Stadtfeld or Major Kozuki?" he asked as his bodyguards fell in line. Behind her technicians and mechanics rushed onto the training arena, intent on repairing the damage done to the area. The Indra stood unblemished in comparison to the chipped and cracked armour of both her Guren and Zero's Lancelot.

"Major _Kozuki_ if you would" Kallen replied through gritted teeth. She had to be polite. Truth be told she'd rather have rammed her fist into his face. But for now she had to act the part of the polite subordinate for the sake of peace. Tact and diplomacy were not Kallen's strong points.

"I won merely because of the technical capabilities of my Knightmare. I am good. That is a fact. As good as you, Zero and Xingke individually and probably better by a moderate margin when I don't restrain my enthusiasm. But the added capabilities of my Indra which is based around a Shen Hu chassis such as that used by Xingke and enhanced significantly exceeds the capabilities of your Guren or his Lancelot" Fhajad said as he strolled. He motioned for Kallen to keep up as he increased the pace of his stride.

"Speak your mind Kallen. Or is it Karen? I assume you're being polite due to my status as dignitary and your own as security commander. Feel free to talk and act honestly as if I were a normal man. I assure you nothing will happen" Fhajad said with geniality, a vague smile on his face.

"I have business elsewhere Lord Fhajad. I apologise sincerely" Kallen said as she bowed and turned, intent on leaving him to his own devices.

**WWW**

Kallen turned the key to Navin's apartment and entered, depositing her shoes on the side. She looked around the apartment and saw him moping in front of the television, watching a documentary about the Second Great War that occurred throughout Europe, Africa and Asia more than a century before.

"Nav...what's wrong?" she asked as she sat down on the sofa, glancing at his face. It was grimly set as she heard him grind his teeth together before he closed his eyes and opened them, looking at her.

"I've been fired from Ashford. Or rather I tendered my resignation in at the request of the Chairman of the Ashford Group" he said before closing his eyes, attempting and failing to calm himself. Silence filled the uncomfortable moment before Kallen laid her hand on his arm. He flinched but her hand remained.

"Why?" Kallen asked softly.

"Why else? Because my identity is now publicly known I'm considered a threat. Due to being the half-brother of Fhajad I can't step into Ashford without people thinking that my presence is some sort of threat. The Ashford people knew who I was but since it wasn't public knowledge..."

Kallen tensed, her lips narrowing into a slit.

"We can fight it. I could talk to Ohgi. We could -"

"You'll do no such thing Kallen. What the chairman did was right. I'd do no less. I've got a responsibility to the others to ensure their safety. Now that my identity is public I'm a threat. Let's face it. I mean...how much do you really know about me now that I've told you about my past? Enough to know that I'm a threat to them by being around."

They lapsed into silence once more as the morose Navin stared blankly at the television. The seconds ticked by as he and Kallen looked at the documentary talk of the effects of the war, of the Jewish enclaves in Taiwan, Brunei, Malaya and Sri Lanka. Of numerous things that he could have cared less about.

He just wanted to live his life. To live free and undeterred. To live in peace with his family. To carve his own path. To make his own way in the world, free of the Black Tiger legacy. Free of his father. Free of his brother. Free of the expectations of so many people.

"I'll never be free of the legacy of my father or brother will I, Kallen?" he asked softly as he looked at her. And all Kallen could reply with was silence.

**WWW**

Anwar cocked his fist back and rammed it into the man's face with all his strength, dislocating and fracturing his jaw in a spray of blood while his men watched. "Repeat those words. _Again_" he said slowly, emphasising the last word as he loaded the bullets into the revolver. The slugs were .500 Magnum rounds, able to kill an elephant if it hit it in the right place.

The man tried to say something before Anwar rammed a knife hand into his throat and kicked him, sending him sprawling across the cold concrete floor. The man whimpered in terror, eyes staring in alarm at the corpses of his comrades.

"You killed him. You came from Britannia as exiles, saying that 'white Britannians' oppressed you, took your ancestors as slaves. Yet you've only always played the victim mentality. _Pathetic. _Then you betray the hand that feeds you. We know of your liaison with Britannian intelligence._"_

Anwar spat out the last words, aiming a kick at the man's ribs and cracking them with his boots. Anwar pulled him up by his hair and slapped his face with the revolver, wanting him alive and conscious for what was to happen next.

"First Sergeant Armando Clancy. Attache to the SIB Shanghai Station Chief. Traitor. Handed over to the 1st Guards Battalion personnel onboard the RFS _Hang Tuah_ for _processing_. Unfortunately you somehow gained access to a gun and killed yourself with a shot to the head after falling down the stairs and beating yourself to the point that you burst your own eardrums."

Zaki turned to the side as he heard the gunshots. Now that justice was served, the corpses were to be dumped over the side, fed to the fishes. The Pacific was a large ocean. No one would miss those men.

Anwar walked out of the interrogation chamber. He was a man of medium build, a wiry leanness to him that was typical of most guardsmen. They shared the same basic training as the commandos, differing only in their doctrine and mentality.

Commandos were the infiltrators, responsible for deep strikes and operations within enemy territory. Guardsmen operated in the No Man's Land between two fronts, the raiders and shock troops who struck first, overwhelming enemy strongpoints with the swiftness of their assault. Guards Raiders were an entirely different matter, trained as special operations troops to support the LRRP elements of the commandos or the SOF (Special Operations Force), drawn from both formations.

Anwar drew deeply on his cigarette before exhaling, letting the smoke fill the space of the passageway before it dissipated.

"Didn't your wife get you to stop?" Zaki asked offhandedly.

"I've got it down to once a week. Better than being a chain smoker. No more people they need us to deal with I hope? I can kill people with no problems Zaki. I give them clean, swift deaths. Same as I did during the war years. But torturing them? Locking them in sensory deprivation cells? Using nerve induction to stimulate pain? Breaking them mentally and physically with beatings? That's not productive. People tell you whatever you want to hear when they're being tortured. Its an ethical and administrative concern I voice."

Zaki stared out at the Pacific, the distant specks of ships against the horizon the only things in view. Something big was going down. Ever since the summit had been announced they'd been deployed to provide general security coverage in Tokyo. Given that the Riau Federation was a Taipei Axis nation, the Japanese were amenable to their presence.

Nunnally's generals had demanded that a carrier battle group be station on hand in case of an attack but the Japanese had refused the presence of any Britannian troops on their soil. At least the Singapore Guards were seen as neutral enough to be non-offensive to both parties.

It all didn't add up. Why were all these disparate groups cooperating to pull off what could perhaps be the biggest terrorist act to date? Everyone knew the consequences of failure. The last five years had seen a tenuous peace after the death of Lelouch but what the public didn't know was how stretched the espionage services and counter-terrorist agencies were.

Syndicates and cartels throughout the world were supplying weapons to terrorist groups while profiting from a constant flow of illicit substances while increasing piracy in the waters of the Red Sea and the Malacca Straits were keeping the Indian Commonwealth Navy, Taipei Axis Maritime Force and Black Knights Fleet busy.

The terrorists and criminals had grown unusually sophisticated and coordinated, using logistical and financial methodologies and means that circumvented the detection of the electronic networks of the Britannians and UFN, challenging even the formidable Special Intelligence Branch of the Riau Federation.

What had alarmed them though was the rapid increase in activity among domestic Japanese terrorists. While Kaname Ohgi had attempted to reconcile the various segments of the population, many members of the Japan Liberation Front and those of the Kyoto House had remained separate, refusing to allow any form of coexistence with the Britannians and other foreigners present in their homeland.

Given that Japan was a major political power in the UFN as well as the technological and economic powerhouse, any effects it had on the political and economic stability of Japan affected the rest of the UFN in turn. What had been an insular, homogeneous culture had been forced to open up to the rest of the world before it was prepared to do so. And now it paid the price.

**WWW**

Miguel looked at the vast horizon of the Pacific from his balcony on the 150th level of the Meridian Tokyo. The last time he'd been to Japan had been just before the invasion more than 15 years ago. During the occupation of Japan Charles had positioned him as the de facto governor of the South American territories, quelling rebellions and dealing with the insurgencies that popped up in the Philippines and the Amazon.

As Deputy Prime Minister or Deputy Chancellor of Britannia, he was present to negotiate a treaty over the use of space resources and the increasing militarisation of it, along with strategic arms limitations primarily.

He shook his head. Nunnally was in a hard position and attempting to negotiate a bargain with the other nations. As it was they were just on par with the UFN, militarily and economically. . It was not only as a leader of Britannia that he acted, but with the long term interests of a Master of the Diamond Lotus Mantle.

While they had diverging ideological views, he and Ben had always agreed that Britannia's existence was beneficial in the long term. In another time, had he allowed George Washington to form the United States of America, the world would have descended into a state worse than this.

As it was the ozone layer had no holes, there were only about five and a half billion people in the world, development was measured and sustainable while financial markets did well. Society was stable, even the poorest of Britannia's subjects had food to eat, education was universal, employment was readily available and opportunities for advancement abounded in the world. Cities had no smog, people could soon settle space. It could have been worse.

Miguel believed in order and discipline imposed upon the masses with judicious measures to ensure social justice for the greater good. He wasn't necessarily a democrat for he believed that some cultures couldn't be ruled by democracy. In simpler terms Miguel was a firm collectivist who believed in individualism as long as it did not threaten social harmony. A diametric view in opposition to Ben who'd always espoused ideals of freedom and liberty.

"Miguel. A penny for your thoughts" Nunnally said as she walked onto the balcony, leaning on her cane. Zero was nowhere in sight, attending to other details at her command.

"Empress?"

Nunnally sighed. "Call me Nunnally. I've always insisted on that."

Miguel shook his head. "You are the Empress and I'll address as such. What I call you in private I will call you in public Empress Nunnnally. There are no deceptions that I hide from you. Though perhaps I omit facts here and there" he added with a slight smile.

Nunnally looked at him in shock. Had the humourless bastard just made a joke? She turned back to looking at the Pacific, collecting her thoughts before speaking.

"Let's be honest Miguel. You've never wanted me on this throne. If you had your way you'd have placed Cornelia or Schneizel on it. So why obey me? Why do all that you've done for me? To be honest I don't even know whether you hate me or dislike me. So why all this? All your loyalty?"

Miguel looked pensive, staring at Nunnally. He'd misjudged her in many things but this boldness of hers spoke of Marianne vi Brittania. Who else of the Imperial Consorts had ever had the courage to harangue the 'Master of Assassins' in public? Nunnally had a coiled steel in her, a resilience he hadn't expected. Like silk over steel.

"I serve because that's what I am. A servant of Britannia. Of a higher power. Of your family. I serve the people and the greater good that Britannia can represent. I serve out of love for those I consider my children. I don't hate you or dislike you Nunnally. But I felt you didn't have the strength to represent the throne. Nor the desire. Schneizel and Cornelia had that inner strength, forged from the time of their birth. They endured a crucible that broke many lesser members of your family. You....you're different. Lelouch laid a foundation for you. An unstable one. He violated the very man I call 'son'. He betrayed and was responsible for the death of Andreas Darlton, my dearest friend. He was the one who murdered Euphemia, my _greatest failure. _He -"

"That's enough Miguel" Nunnally said, an edge to her voice and a gleam in her eyes.

"No Empress. It isn't. I serve out of _love_ for the people I _love_, just as Lelouch laid the foundation for you. I do what no one else wants to do in the darkness, to make sure your rule is strong. I face your enemies and slay them so that no blood taints you or your family. You and Schneizel and Cornelia are where you are because I supported and educated all of you. Because I love them. Because they told me to serve you. Because it's my duty. Because it's my honour."

"That's it? Honour? Love? You never struck me as idealistic Miguel."

"Did your parent's do no less for you? Misguided as they were, didn't your parents aim to do no less for you?" Miguel said as he left the balcony, stalking off into the darkness of the hotel. Nunnally stood alone looking at the horizon, not realising just how close the coming storm was.

Before he left the royal suite, Miguel stopped and turned, leaving Nunnally with his parting words.

"Nunnally. My Empress. I will serve you. Until the end."

_I will serve you in the storm that comes Empress. I don't know when. I don't know how. But on the horizon there's something so vast it eclipses all else. It took En Sabah Nur's life. It obscures our sight. It threatens the very world and people which I have fought for._

_It threatens my children and their children. It threatens Cornelia, Schneizel and their families. It threatens the future. And so for that the Diamond Lotus will fight. And like diamond, we will endure._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

_**Further disclaimer: Turns out my mother and uncles are reading this. Mum....thanks but if you just want to skip the sex scene go on right ahead ok! It's the third segment. So just...um. Its artistic. No further comment.**_

**WWW**

The crowds looked on as the limousines filled with VIPs filed past them, stern-faced soldiers looking on. The mob was mostly Japanese and extremely hostile. At the appearance of the Britannian flag they roared, rushing forward against the barriers. The limousine was pelted with rocks and bottles before a shield shimmered into existence, the Blaze Luminous surrounding it in a series of hexagonal layers that deflected it.

While the physics and mathematical basis behind a Blaze Luminous were horrendously complex, in essence it was simply an immensely powerful distortion of electrostatic charges that were maintained in a neutral containment field, the charged particles accelerated through a linear accelerator to near light-speed, forming a near-solid barrier that blocked and/or absorbed most attacks, be they kinetic projectiles or otherwise. It's only real challenge were masers or lasers as they only refracted them greatly and dissipated their energy rather than absorbing them.

The Tokyo Metropolitan Police had deployed in strength, the riot squad forming a cordon around the area, while the Tokyo Armoured Police Brigade had stationed themselves within the cordoned security zone of Chiba, where the summit was being held.

Black Knight Knightmare Frames stood on the tops of skyscrapers while jets flew overhead, a reminder to all of the tight security that the summit engendered. Further within were the Singapore Guards, a full battalion on standby while another battalion waited offshore, a strategic reserve prepared for deployment at an instants notice.

It was thought to be an impregnable fortress by all, or as impregnable as humanly possible. But as with most things human, there were always cracks in what was thought to be a perfect defence, especially from unexpected quarters.

**WWW**

Miguel sat in the command room, looking at the numerous screens displaying the disposition of various forces. Despite not being able to openly have Britannia's military forces within rapid deployment in Japan, he'd brokered a deal to have the Special Intelligence Branch of the Taipei Axis, the Sixth State Bureau of Britannia and Central Intelligence Service of the UFN cooperating on security.

"You there. Marcus isn't it? Zoom in on that man there" a voice rang out even as runners entered and exited the room, distributing paperwork, coffee and various other material to the personnel. A recent spike in terrorist activity had seen multiple weapon imports interdicted by the UFN Maritime Forces Pacific Fleet and Japanese Coast Guard.

"Who'd have thought we'd be working together eh Miguel-sama?" Hirota Kesoga said to Miguel as he surveyed the room. Hirota was a fixture in the Japanese Diet, the intelligence tsar of Japan. Nicknamed the 'Mad Shogun', he'd been an active partner of the Kyoto House during the first revolution before its suppression.

Of all the directors and their lieutenants there, its was also notable to all that only Hirota dared to stand next to the Master of Assassins and his security section chief, Carlos Machado, a Hispanic man of medium athletic build at 5'9. A former amateur boxer and Combat Sambo champion, he was known to be as stubborn as a pit bull and just as tough. Despite his intimidating visage, his temper was non-existent.

Miguel closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The Princess Consort Hera Manos, wife of Schneizel El Britannia, had pushed for meeting at this highly symbolic summit, a symbol of reconciliation. The former conqueror returning to pay respects and settle the peace. But what a logistical and operational nightmare it had become for the security personnel involved.

"I didn't ever expect this. But after all, peace makes for much stranger bedfellows than war. Of course, peace is preferable to the wars that Charles started."

"Peace. Lelouch's peace. Such a fragile peace in a way. Imagine if he were to just come back from the dead. After all, no one really knows who Zero is. I've always been suspicious about Zero. He never shows his face, constantly follows the Empress and Schneizel like a dog and sticks out like a sore thumb. A folk hero popular with the masses, but who is he really? One has to wonder...maybe Lelouch for some insane reason decided to fake his death?"

Hirota suddenly felt the temperature drop precipitously as Miguel turned to look at him, causing shivers to crawl across his skin. In a voice that held an undercurrent of tension and exasperation, Miguel fixed him in the eye as he spoke.

"Lelouch vi Britannia, aka Lelouch Lamperouge is dead. _Dead_. Quite dead. I can gurantee that. Of course, if someone managed to get the technology to clone him, and we all know that's a few decades away...well, if he does come back I'll be dead. It won't be my concern any longer."

**WWW**

C.C. hissed softly as Lelouch kissed her neck, shivering at his amorous attentions. His long tongue quietly flicked a pulse point on her neck as he lay beside her, both of them on their sides. She reached out and slowly caressed him, her hand trailing across his face.

"Lulu..." she whispered softly as she felt the head of his penis slowly stroke against the soft folds of her vulva, her sex moist and ready to receive him. She felt the tension in his muscles, the movement of his hips as he gently spread her thighs, lifting one of them to better access her sex.

She giggled as his hands trailed softly across her elbow, the ticklish sensation making her laugh. Even since her pregnancy, the intensity of their love making had increased, if anything. She had to marvel at how he treated her, tenderly holding her as if she was made of porcelain or fine china.

He teased her, rubbing the length of his engorged manhood back and forth across her, drawing a shuddering breath from her before she gave another giggle and playfully smacked his thigh. She turned her neck back to kiss him as he slowly entered her, her lips parting before him.

A sharp intake of breath as his fingers began to skilfully caress the soft down of her womanhood, one hand stroking her clitoris before his dextrous fingers plunged into her womanhood to join his penis, a long but firm stroke on her g-spot making her buck her hips.

She pushed back slightly as they languidly made love, she pushing her hips back to meet his gentle thrusts. She heard a low moan from him before he let his teeth rasp across her skin, the soft skin of her neck turning red.

She felt the pressure build up within her, the beginnings of the 'little death' as tremors began in her muscles. Lelouch continued his ministrations even as she came, the wave of pleasure washing over her as she gripped his legs, clenching and unclenching her hands around his own.

He continued with gentle thrusts even as she came down from her peak before she was rewarded with another one, her vaginal walls tightening around Lelouch as she whimpered softly, her other hand on his face stretching into claws as she felt him tighten, muscles tensing and tightening beneath the skin. She finally felt him reach completion, his seed flowing into her.

In the afterglow, her skin flushed and red, she turned to look into his eyes, noting the hooded look he gave her, his eagerness to sleep not lost on her. She cuddle up with him, wrapping the sheets of their bed around them as she kissed him.

"You're incredible Lulu" she whispered to him softly.

"I had a great teacher" was his simple reply, enjoying the post-coital intimacy with his wife.

"Now we've got to start packing. We're supposed to meet Raven at the Arles rail station at 4 pm tomorrow. She'll be picking us up. She invited us to stay over at one of their guest houses."

Lelouch shook his head in amazement. "Exactly how are you able to network with people like this and befriend them Caramia? Aziz and Raven are really wealthy. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aziz turned out to be an arms dealer or something with the amount of money they seem to have."

She wiggled her hips as she got out of bed, seeing the appreciative gleam in his eyes. "A girl learns quite a bit from living for seven centuries. Now out of the bed. I need to use the toilet and you need to get down and start cooking our dinner."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Pizza. With lots of salami. And cheese in the crust. And pepperoni. Got it. What is it with you and pizza anyway?"

C.C. simply gave him a winsome look and winked. "It's round. Like my butt which you like so much. So get to it and start cooking loverboy."

**WWW**

After dinner, as C.C. snoozed lightly on the couch, Lelouch ran his hand over her face. She looked so innocent, holding Cheese-kun to her closely while she lightly rested.

"_You'll never know how much I love you C.C. You'll never know how much you saved me from the darkness of my Geass. How you made my final days tolerable. When you weren't there....I don't know how I endured. When I wanted to change the world, you were there for me. You believed in me...in what I could achieve"_ Lelouch thought slowly.

As he ran his fingers across her face, twisting the strands of her green hair through them, he collapsed to his knees, moaning and clutching his head. Caramia was up in a flash. In the past few weeks they'd started, always as if something was hammering away at his head. But it always subsided.

"Lelouch?" she asked worriedly as she helped him sit on the sofa. "I'll get the Panadol. Just sit here and -"

Just then he gave an abrupt scream and curled into a ball, hands clawing at his head._ Thoughts in his head. Thoughts that weren't his. Thoughts. Images. Dreams._

_The caress of a lover. A hand upon his face. His face was C.C.'s face. The dream of godhood. Desire. Lust. Love. Dreams that weren't his. Memories. Schneizel. Amshel. Hera. People he didn't know. Names he couldn't have known. Kallen. The Grail of Aslan. _

"Lulu!" Caramia said worriedly as she knelt beside him, holding him to her body. For that was all she could do.

"C.C..." he whispered as the pain finally subsided. Then he felt it.

Her emotions filled him. Her love for him overlaying everything. Her worry. Her concern. He suddenly looked through another person's eyes at a figure lying on the floor._ Him_. He was looking through C.C.'s eyes. And then he felt the small mote within and without. A spark of awareness. A movement that spoke of life.

And he was back once more, gazing into C.C.'s sapphire eyes. And it reflected their emotions, of wonder and of fear.

**WWW**

Kallen groaned as she looked at the guest list. On top of being called away from her regular job along with the rest of her battalion, all of whom were demobilised reservist members of the Black Knights who'd been called up, she'd caught acute coryza, also known as the common cold. It didn't help that a viral flu had decommissioned half of her unit.

It was severe enough that they'd put a battalion of regulars, professional soldiers, in charge of the security of the perimeter. Kallen had felt obligated to continue to perform and in the end had to be contented with becoming a part of the military bureaucracy as she signed form after form approving the flow of supplies.

She, the elite ace of the Black Knights, the Red Queen, had been reduced to nothing more than a cog in the logistics machine.

She coughed and blew her nose into a tissue before throwing it into the bin, adding to the growing pile within. She glanced at the forms that one of the general staff had slipped her, asking her to re-enlist in the military.

She was sorely tempted. To the average civilian it was all glamour and danger, but Kallen's motivation wasn't there. She'd fought for a free Japan, just like most of the Black Knights. Then they'd stood together against the oppression of Britannia's rule and the machinations of Schneizel and Lelouch during the Zero Requiem.

She'd lost her close friends and first love to the war, had nearly lost her mother, had her brother shot while protecting her. She'd given some of the best years of her life to making the dream of her brother, of a free Japan, a reality. Now all she wanted was a quiet corner to live her own life, free of any greater concerns. An average 23 year old woman with a job as a teacher. A meaningful, challenging job that gave her autonomy to live as she pleased.

No gunfights. No spies. Just simply tests, students, marking and the sheer, unadulterated joy of a good night's sleep in her underwear and not much else. Really not much else.

"Something got you down Kallen?" came a familiar voice and she turned to look. It was Navin. In his hands was a thermos. He wore a bomber jacket over a pale blue cotton shirt with simple black jeans, scuffed from a fall earlier in the day.

Right at that moment something in her nose clicked and she sneezed, the powerful burst of air from her lungs clearing her nostrils of the blockage. She closed her eyes and opened them to see Navin's grim expression, yellow mucous from her nose dripping from his face.

"Charming...." was all Navin could say, even as his face and tone told a diametrically different story. Kallen put her hands to her mouth as she muttered apologies, all the while trying not to laugh at his attempt to retain his dignity.

**WWW**

"How did you get through the security?" Kallen asked him as she took a gulp from the thermos, filled with sweet ginger tea. A small tiffin can containing her dinner stood beside it, the scent of Indian food wafting from it. Navin was similar to Lelouch in that he was an excellent cook, able to cook French, South Indian, Peranakan and Chinese cuisine with ease. He'd also brought a mix of honey, lime and toddy for her sore throat.

Navin's face and hair were damp, the smell of citrus soap hanging in the air. Wet spots on his clothes bore evidence to the vigorous scrubbing he'd done on his face, no thanks to Kallen's accident.

"Guess there's an advantage to being that bastard's half-brother" Navin said with a grin. Kallen looked at him before his face became serious again. "Anwar got me through. The security here....they're paranoid as hell. I had to go through eighteen checkpoints just to get here. And twelve just to use the washroom. That and...well, a lot of the higher ups served with me during the war years in the Resistance."

Kallen nodded. "Say thanks to my mum for me. So what're you doing now that you're unemployed?"

Navin held up his motorcycle key. "I'm doing some work as a courier. Guess all that motocross racing came in handy. Since they've locked down the electronic communications in and out of here except for the public media, they need human couriers to carry communiques and all that stuff around. I wasn't cleared for this area but I pulled some strings and got in. As for now, I'm just going to take a quick nap before I leave. I've been running around the whole day. I just need to sit and take a breather."

Settling into the couch in the corner, Navin settled down for a light snooze as Kallen went back to work. With only his light breathing and the whisper of the air conditioner in the background she went to work, sorting through the guest list methodically and efficiently.

But she stumbled slightly as she read the last few names on the list.

"_No. Not him. Not them."_

She read the names again, checking to make sure she wasn't wrong. But in black and white, it read as clear as day. Duke James Stadtfeld IV and Captain Tycho Stadtfeld. Her father and brother.

**WWW**

Nunnally looked at the vast contingent of troops present, all from the neutral Taipei Axis country of the Riau Federation. The Singapore Guards had a reputation as one of the most vicious and combat efficient fighting forces, rivalled only by the ROKMC (Republic of Korea Marine Corps), Sikh Royal Imperators and Gurkha Regiments in their reputation for professionalism and fighting capability.

They were also among the few fighting forces whom Britannia's Royal Marines feared, and rightfully so. Guardsmen were vicious fighters, born of a mongrel stock and experts in high-mobility amphibious, guerilla and jungle warfare, realms which the Royal Marines, though capable, were hard pressed to match the Guards in. The Singaporean troops of the Riau Federation were known for their attributes of discipline, professionalism, fighting spirit and courage bordering on suicidal.

However, it was the first three battalions that were particularly so. Composed wholly of regulars, a requirement within all three battalions was to have a brown belt in Krav Maga or be an Expert Level 4 or 5 along with being a 2nd dan in Hapkido. This was on top of them training for at least 3 years in Lethwei.

At the same time they were required to have essentially the same base level of physical fitness standards as an Olympic triathlete and were required to swim 15 km in the sea within 5 hours after which they were required to run 42 km in three hours as part of an annual test, along with a biannual 250 kilometre 'Hell March' over hilly jungle terrain and swamp over 3 days _and_ a 150 km navigation exercise over two days consecutively. And these were just the standards required to remain within the battalion.

Along with their infamous 'Hell Week', copied from the Royal Navy SEAL 's of Britannia, their basic and intermediate training stages were perhaps amongst the harshest, with a requirement of 65% minimum accuracy during marksmanship tests, with most recruits scoring in the 85th percentile or higher of their cohort during vocational aptitude tests compared to the average soldier. The Hell Week involved a constant 132 hours of physical activity with only four hours of sleep. At this point only about 30% of the recruits made it through.

The standards were lower but no less rigorous for other battalions within the formation, for they were composed of 'washouts' from the main battalions, from which commando fighters and naval divers were also pulled. But the "Holy Trinity" of the three main battalions was the gold standard and few if any could match them.

Coupled with their vocational training to high levels of competency, with most receiving additional combat medic and signaller training over the course of their initial two years, it was little surprise that such an elite group was guarding them.

She passed through a checkpoint with her bodyguards and they saluted crisply though their eyes remained guarded as they glanced at the Imperial Britannia symbol upon the shoulders of her bodyguards. A master sergeant waved them through with a salute before turning his attention back to manning the checkpoint.

**WWW**

Her father's legacy had left an extreme amount of bad blood between Britannia and the rest of the world. It would take decades before people would ever begin to trust Britannia again. Lelouch had changed the world for the better in many ways and given his life for it, becoming a symbol of hatred and dishonour as a way for Nunnally to utilise in the new world order. His legacy of the Black Knights was something that would endure though.

"My dearest sister-in-law, how are you today?" came a familiar voice.

"Fhajad. So nice to _meet_ you. We're not family _just_ yet" Nunnally replied, plastering a smile on her face. As the Empress, the marriage had gained her tacit approval but it was still worrying. Sophia still retained her rights to the throne and if anything were to happen to her, Cornelia or Schneizel, Sophia was the next in line. Fhajad's ambitions were known to extend only to his current holdings but the union was worrying nonetheless, though Miguel had told her of internal divisions within the Sahar family that balanced Fhajad out.

"How's your brother? Not the younger one Navin, the one with Kallen. Your older one? Altair is it?"

A spark of unidentifiable emotion appeared in Fhajad's eyes. "Altair is doing well. As is his family. Why do you ask?"

She smiled. "No reason. Family is important after all. Because in a marriage, one doesn't just marry the individual. They marry into the family. This can create conflicts. Ever heard of Romeo and Juliet? They succumbed to their desire for one another and in the end, both paid for it with their lives. In this harsh reality of ours, love doesn't necessarily translate to a happy marriage. Especially when politics is involved."

Fhajad fixed her with a glare. "I take it you don't approve of the union."

"I never did. Do you plan to have your heirs inherit both empires? Sophia hasn't surrendered her throne rights, nor have you explained to me fully what your plans are. Not for your young empire. Your ambitions are clear. You're transparent in that you say you seek a peaceful rise. But what assurances are there to your words? Your actions speak otherwise. Your secret _psychic_ projects for example?"

Fhajad's eyes narrowed. "State secrets. A weapon to wield in case of external and internal threats. You know that. After all, you had your Code-R projects and your own deals with the Geass Directorate. My psychics are no different than the deals the Britannians cut with the GD. I treat them better than the way you treat yours after all."

Nunnally replied dismissively."My father's time. Lelouch exterminated them but some survived. I had them eliminated. To have such a power going wild would endanger the world. After all, this is the peace my brother gave the world. It is my duty to maintain it, to make it better. Such a power threatens the peace. The knowledge has been destroyed. But a man like you possessing such power?"

The silence between them became pregnant with tension before Nunnally gave a little laugh laced with relief. "Miguel told me to trust you. He said that you could be trusted, because he knows you through and through. He said to me; _have faith in the young king, for with him lies a spark of nobility._ You're arrogant, self-confident to the point of it. You're intelligent, probably as much as Schneizel. You're also an ass of the first-class, though those are the words of Miguel. But you're an idealist like he said you are. And Miguel, I trust with my life."

"What else did Miguel say?" Fhajad asked nonchalantly. Nunnally's smile became a smirk as she looked him up and down. Every inch the imperial ruler yet ever so much the man her sister loved.

She could see now why the marriage would be good. In the long term a man like this was a valuable ally. As for the question of heirs - it could be settled another time. For now this man would be trusted. Her sister Sophia had this man in the palm of her hand. Miguel, Cornelia and Schneizel were right in their assessment. The more intelligent a man was, in many ways the more emotionally vulnerable he would become towards his partner.

"Nothing much. But I'm surprised you've never used your psychic powers in the open. Any man could withstand adversity. But if you want to test his mettle, give him power, as my ancestor Duke Abraham of the Lincoln family once said" Nunnally said as she turned to leave, dialling down the power setting of the psychic dampener planted in her left ear.

Fhajad stood still, looking at her in shock. As he watched her retreating form he began to laugh. He would prove to the world, to the Diamond Lotus themselves that he was every inch the man his father was and more. He was Sahar. What made them feared was not their psychic skill nor their wealth or wit. It wasn't even the prowess of their fighting skills or their political acumen and diplomacy. He remembered the words of his mother Ashima as she lectured him as a child.

"_A world is supported by these things; the courage of the warrior, the wisdom of the sage, the knowledge of the magician, the toil of the caregiver, the care of the altruist, the energy of the innocent, the humours of the jester, the endurance of the seeker, the chaos of the outlaw, the imagination of the seeker and the communication of the lover. All of these archetypes have their attributes and qualities that lead to a society. Your father is one of those pillars for he is a warrior just like you are. But all of these are as nothing, __**nothing.**__ Not without us."_

"_Why mother?"_

"_Because above all of them rises the ruler. We take responsibility for the greater good. We command. We bring discipline to the chaos. We bring the law to govern. We protect our people. We destroy corruption. We exist to serve and bind all the rest together. We lead and in doing so we serve. We are born for this. It is our destiny. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Just like the Britannians, we are the strongest. But unlike them, we know our place. Your psychic prowess is worthless if you don't train the mind. For psi can be blocked, stripped by the machinations of man. Yet they can never take away one thing- your mind."_

"Well mother...you were right. But you were also wrong" Fhajad mused silently. There were other universes out there, the Diamond Lotus existing in so many. His great dynasty sprawled among them and in centuries, in an age he would not live to see, the people of this world would join the teeming mass of humanity that existed beyond.

But that was only if they survived the coming storm. The Kralizec.

**WWW**

_"Kralizec". _Alamgir rolled it around in his mind. The knowledge he'd absorbed from Aslan, the knowledge that befitted him as the new En Sabah Nur came to him, filling the many voids in his pool of experience and knowledge. "What is Kralizec?"

"The typhoon-like forces, the indifference of which was concealed within apparitions of beneficence and malignancy. Kralizec was its offspring and all their manifold opponents, resources, and sources of harm."

Alamgir blankly looked at him and Aziz shook his head before trying to explain again.

"What Kralizec doesn't destroy are perforce the embodiments of perishable excellences, excellences that became occasions for apparitions of decadence. But apparitions which are decadent or excellent only as they are lead to death or renewal. Kralizec is especially each crisis in which a kind shows itself to be decadent, by dying, or shows itself to be excellent, by surviving and thriving."

"So what you're saying in a non-obfuscating way that a layman can understand is that it is a natural event that comes to test whether the human animal is fit for survival, both as an individual and at the level of a group? A natural force that happens to every sapient species?" Alamgir asked quizzically.

Aziz nodded. "Every society reaches a point where it evolves in a sudden phase change like water boiling to vapour reaches a critical point where societal pressures among various factions develops and a need arises to test who is most fit. Sometimes...evolution isn't about who is most fit to survive but who is lucky enough to survive the momentous event."

Alamgir listened as Aziz continued his lecture. It was knowledge of the future, knowledge he lacked. And the Arbitrator always seemed to never have a lack of knowledge, no matter the topic.

"Humans are here because of a combination of both strength and luck. The strength was adaptability and intelligence. The rest was luck. It comes about as a convergence of many factors."

"But what's your interest in all this Lord Azalu-?" Alamgir spoke before he was cut off. Aziz's brows furrowed in irritation.

"Do _not_ call me that name. It's something from long ago. I'm not Imperial Ulthaj nor are there any Ulthaj outside of the domain determined by Azaluhaiz. Azaluhaiz gave the Omniverse freedom from the Ulthaj and gave the Ulthaj freedom within the domain of his creation. This is only a shade of a shadow of a pale reflection upon water. Even less" Aziz said as he gestured to himself.

"The Typhoon Struggle. The Levant Storm. So many names for a simple thing" Alamgir mused. For certain anomalous reasons he'd never been able to penetrate Aziz's mind. It was, for lack of a better word, undetectable. For all intents and purposes Aziz didn't have a mind he could detect. Yet he was human. Smelt, looked and felt human too. Anomaly.

"What do you want Alamgir?" Aziz said, eyes cocked. In the cool Mediterranean autumn, as they sat by the seaside in Arles, overlooking the azure of the sea, the two sat, one awaiting the answer, one pondering it.

"What I want....is for an evolution through gradual change. Change in slow increments. Changes that humanity can handle. I've Aslan's memories. I've seen far too often human societies reach a point of self-destruction and from there it's a spiral. All too often I've seen them unable to handle the technological singularity that occurs, the explosion in the amount and complexity of information that deluges their society. Just as often human societies have survived without our intervention."

Aziz smiled. "But why this particular one? You possess the power to bring all the immortals to another universe and start over. Alternative realities and timelines even. What's so special about this one that you choose to persist in this, knowing of the events to come?"

"Why are you here Aziz? Why is the Laughing God present in this time and place with a senior consort no less?"

Aziz looked at him. "My reasons are my own. This diminished instrumentality is simply something I do. Humans and lesser beings don't understand. Not even immortals. But the story that occurs around us, the events that happen – they are about you and your motivations. Now answer me. Take it as an order if you will."

Alamgir stopped to consider the answer. He wouldn't be able to get a straight answer out of the Arbitrator unless Aziz allowed it and even that there were layers to the truth that he gave. So really, there was no point in arguing with him. But could he speak honestly? He looked up and met Aziz's gaze.

"Love. A love for this place which has become my home. A love for the people whom I've adopted as my own. I suppose I want to see what happens here because they're so interesting. So unlike the other human societies out there."

He hesitated and looked at Aziz. Aziz motioned for him to continue, nodding his head.

"Rarity and beauty. It's a rich tapestry that constantly unfolds. There's always chaos. There's always something happening. And I suppose for an immortal like me...for all those under my charge...we have fallen in love with this life and this reality. We have formed bonds and relationships here and I suppose we have an attachment to it. Nothing is ever the same. Humanity changes with time and I want to see where it leads."

Aziz smiled enigmatically before rising from the table. "A good answer. If that's the case I'll leave you. I've got two infant children to worry about. Plus I've got guests coming over tomorrow. Stick around and meet them."

Alamgir shook his head. "I'm busy Aziz. I teleported here from Japan. I thought you had something important to talk to me about but all we did was sit down and discuss philosophy and motivations. What's the entire point? I've got other things to worry about. I _still_ can't find Lelouch, let alone Caramia. Not with my current level of proficiency with these new powers. I -"

Aziz waved his hand, silencing him. "Stay the night. Stay for dinner. All will be well. I'm your friend after all aren't I? Besides, my wife has always been eager to meet and talk to the one who Zethrei and Aslan were so effusive about. Sit. Eat. Drink. Be at peace. And worry not for the morrow promises hope."

Alamgir shrugged. He had nothing better to do. Might as well stay. Besides, Raven's linguine and pasta were good.

**WWW**

The tension amongst the troops was on the rise. Zaki looked at the bank of monitors, at the surging crowd of protesters that had only grown larger with time. The layer of defences was simple. The Guards looked after the inner compound, manning the checkpoints and providing a massive wall of protection to the VIPs within.

A hard-bitten and lean man in his middle age, he was as fit as many of the younger men under his command. A contemporary of Kiseki no Tohdoh if less famous, he'd met and worked with Kyoshiro Tohdoh several times in the past. To think that he'd become deputy prime minister....

"Thinking about something Zach?" Anwar said as he walked in, adjusting the straps of the Pahlawan.

"Not much. Just looking forward to retirement. I'm opening a little bar along Orchard Road back home. My children are grown up and leaving the house, my youngest is following in the footsteps and has enlisted, is now a section commander in 2nd Guards. My wife is asking me to quit and enjoy my retirement."

"You. Retire?" Anwar asked, almost incredulous. Zaki had been in the military for the better part of 15 years. A commander known for his firmness and deft hand with military politics, he was the battalion S-4, in charge of logistics. Often considered the toughest job of the lot, he'd passed with flying colours. He was also the RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major), known for his soft but commanding voice and aura of calm.

Zach sighed. "I'm not like you Anwar. I'm a volunteer. You're a career military man. I enlisted when I was 30, joined up to fight the Britannians and Chinese. I was an accountant before that. A paper pusher. I'm 45 now. I've done my time, served with pride. Getting my discharge when we land back in Singapore after this. You enlisted when again? Right. 16. Now you're 33, a CSM (Company Sergeant Major) and a staff sergeant to boot. You're successful, one of the best soldiers in the regiment. I've got another ten years if I extended but I'm done. Moving on. I served my country. Now it's time for me to rest. Come. We'll talk about this later. Right now -"

Just then alarms began to blare throughout the complex as the screens suddenly blanked out. Distant explosions and gunfire could be heard before the radio net suddenly exploded with a flurry of activity.

Anwar rushed to a console and as his eyes scrolled down the incoming messages he swore under his breath as he reached out to grab his rifle, activating the urban camouflage pattern on his survival suit.

"Give me a feed on the main entrance. This is HQ to all point. Maintain radio discipline and sound off. Tell me what's happening. Out" Zaki finished, putting the earpiece down. Slowly the screens cleared of static to reveal a scene of carnage, dismembered bodies strewn all over the place. A crowd of people dressed in costumes that resembled Zero filled the space, wielding rifles and pistols.

**WWW**

The protest had turned into a violent riot as all over Tokyo Metropolitan Police units responded to the disturbance. Rioters hurled Molotov cocktails and gas grenades at the riot police before out of nowhere people emerged from beneath the ground through manholes, carrying satchels.

Throughout the mob they were handed the satchels before the people disappeared back into the utility tunnels and sewer works that ran beneath the city, the undercity beneath filled with a honeycomb of bunkers, bomb shelters, tunnels and corridors leading to numerous points in the downtown.

The psychics shared a glance before nodding. Under the Chawla-Kurzweil Psychic Index they were classified as high Tier 3 psychics. Since psychic powers were so often arbitrary and defied specific classification, they were divided into general tiers, each of which had three grades; low, moderate and high.

"_Their will be done. Shall we proceed?"_

A slight nod of the other's head and they concentrated. Just like the Geass, the power of psi reached into fabric of one's mind, shifting and altering energy patterns. Just like a Geass, though far more potent.

Their mistreated brethren in India would have their revenge. The young emperor had thought to liquidate the 'failures', broken of mind and a danger to all. To spread among his people wild psychic talent, sowing a crop to reap in the future for his empire and military.

But as he had sown, so would he reap. The Sahar's would pay in their blood. Even now their brethren in India executed their plan. They focused their powers upon the police personnel within the Knightmares, searching for the trigger. They'd been busy in the past few months, the constant decoys and false alarms testing the potency of the web that the Master of Assassins wove.

Though innocent blood was spilled it could be forgiven. The innocent simply paid the price of the guilty. All blood was red after all. Britannians would pay the price for the mistakes of their government as would the Indians.

"Nippon Banzai!" they shouted over their radio, the trigger word worming its way into the minds of the people who heard it, infused further with the focus of all the psychics present. The clones of Kyoshiro Tohdoh and the deceased Black Tiger would spread chaos and leave in their wake a glorious slaughter while the clones of Lelouch, all masked within behind the mask of Zero, would show the world the deception wrought by Britannia, China, India and Japan.

Within the metal shells the policemen lurched and jerked as if hit by a strike. A strike it was, a strike of compulsion more powerful than any Geass, a mental virus that spread to all it touched.

"_**NIPPON BANZAI! DEATH TO ALL BRITANNIANS! DEATH TO ALL WHO DEFILE NOBLE JAPAN!"**_

And then the slaughter began.

**WWW**

Within the walls, Hera heard the explosions that started, a chain of them shaking the complex and causing dust to fall from the ceiling. She acted superbly, huddling under the table besides Nunnally. She heard the voices over the battle net. The babble of confusion was quickly replaced by a strong voice that spoke of long years of command, one accustomed to obedience. A Guardsman. They were perhaps the biggest tactical obstacle to her forces but only an impediment.

The activities of her organisation which she'd named the simple '_De Dios_' was composed of many sleeper agents, unwilling and otherwise. With a simple phrase or psychic charge she could activate them. She'd resurrected the Geass Directorate in recent months after contacting the survivors, shifting their activities to mobile bases based in the South Pacific and in the new space stations that orbited Earth.

They even had forward outposts on the lunar surface, sleepers planted among the various corporations, consortiums and space agencies that had expanded into the unbound frontier beyond the atmosphere. Like a tree she had sunk her roots deep into the ground.

All it took was for a single domino to fall and her schemes would reach fruition. An ancient Greek philosopher had once said that people would fight for fear, interest and honour, often in varying degrees.

The world Lelouch had left was rich in these ingredients. All Hera had to do was manipulate them. For the Britannians were an empire whose power had begun to pale in comparison to the behemoths of Eurasia that had arisen since the time of the Zero Requiem and it's people felt humiliation.

Such a people could easily be goaded to fight for honour. The Asians were a culture that had survived for millennia and against the power of Britannia they would fight out of fear. As for the Europeans, they could easily be goaded to fighting for interest.

**WWW**

Alarms blared throughout the complex as Kallen accelerated her Guren Toukijin through the opening blast doors, right into the trail of several incendiary warheads. Her shield deflected the punishing barrage of rocket-propelled grenades away from her. She activated her cameras, switching to thermal imaging.

Ever since the massacre of the Japanese people, known now as Euphemia's Genocide, she'd sworn to never allow something of such magnitude and horror to ever happen again. The scene that met her caused her gorge to rise before she calmed herself, swallowing it once more.

She dry heaved and heaved again before getting it under control, switching to BWIM (Black-White Image Mode), pulling in deep breathes of air. She was the XO of the 6th Itsukushima Tengu, the Red Queen of the Black Knights. She had to maintain control.

"All squads maintain your spread. Find out who's responsible. The police net is in total chaos and the Singapore Guards are reporting that several of the police are attacking them along with the rioters. So far they've avoided using live rounds but their options using water cannons and tear gas are limited. We need -" her transmission over the tac/com was suddenly cut off as several Knightmares closed in around her.

"Kallen Kozuki. You're half-Japanese aren't you? Your lover a filthy foreigner as well isn't he?" came the scrambled voice over the tac/com.

"This is Captain Kazuo Kiriyama of 2nd Company. To think that we'd be under the command of a bastard half-Britannian disgusted me as it did all Japanese in the regiment. Those of the Purifiers seek justice for the scourge of hybrids that came from Britannia's occupation of Japan. Even our Prime Minister takes a Britannian as a wife, even having a son with her. Such travesties cannot be tolerated. Now you have the honour of being the first to die by the hands of the Ishida Clan. An example to all who defile the purity of Japan and its people."

The Knightmares around her suddenly turned on her, capturing and immobilising her in a net of barbed Slash Harkens before she could react as they placed their cannons point blank to her cockpit. The face of Kazuo Kiriyama filled her screen as he stepped out in an Akatsuki, his Kaiten Yaibatou vibrating shrilly in his hand as he pointed the tip of it at the sternum of her Knightmare. With a sudden thrust, he sent the tip of it lunging towards her cockpit.

**WWW**

The Guren Tokijin had several major improvements over the Guren SEITEN Hakkyokushiki. Aside from retaining all the advantages, Japanese and Korean engineers had replaced much of the traditional alloyed steel armour with the more resilient Selet MMC (Metal Matrix Composite), a titanium superalloy combined with several ceramic carbides, ceramic borides and ceramic nitrides, along with a compressed layer of depleted uranium and a spall liner layer of thick Kevlar and Dyneema weave.

A layer of polycrystalline composite steel armour backed with flexible plasteel and mechanically rugged durasteel alloys were interspersed with aggregated diamond nanorods at the micrometre scale that boosted the entire tensile strength, mechanical ruggedness and thermal resistance of the entire armour structure to astounding levels far beyond anything on the battlefield.

Furthering this was a layer of Titanium-A battle plate reinforcing the joints along with Masyaf polymer panels. All of this was placed beneath a layer of electrically reactive armour which could stop most armour piercing munitions and was reinforced with tungsten carbide and boron nitride.

This increased the durability of the Guren Tokijin while decreasing its weight. Similarly its power plant and engine system had a doubled power output, improving the power-weight ratio. Along with a Radiant Wave Surger (RWS) field which utilised high energy microwave emissions as a defensive measure against most kinetic projectiles and dissipated the energy of particle beams as well as an additional electrostatic-based energy shield based around the Blaze Luminous, it's defensive level was at least 500% above most combat platforms on the battlefield.

Similarly, the addition of two dual baryon cannons and a single hadron cannon to either shoulder and triple-linked plasma cannons in the torso had granted the Guren Tokijin a level of firepower that was best described as overkill to the point of insanity and point defence lasers at the head, shoulders and hips of the Knightmare.

The Slash Harken's were similarly modified to send powerful electrical charges down their length and could release monofilament wires from the tips as well, several hundred spools of the molecule-thick wire stored within the Guren.

The servomotors and hydraulics had been upgraded and additional electromotive artificial muscle fibres had been grafted onto the entire structure, increasing the power-to-weight ratio to a level unseen in any other model excepting the elite Indra's of the Colombo Imperial Guard, which were essentially advanced Shen Hu's modified with extra Titanium-A armour, an ADT system, Gefjun disturbers, two hadron cannons and two baryon cannons. In mechanical terms, it possessed enough raw power to overpower even a Britannian Mordred or Galahad and crush its armour, a feat only ever achieved by Fhajad's personal Indra.

All of this hardware was run and managed by an advanced computing system that connected isolated biologically-based electrochemical neutral networks using minute amounts of cortex tissue grafted to silicon microships in an optical computing network of tremendous potency. Had Evangelion or Gundam battle platforms existed in that reality, they would have avoided any conflict with the Guren Tokijin.

Of course Major Kallen Kozuki was yet to learn this as most of this was listed in the operating manual for the Knightmare which she'd yet to read due to it being as thick as a telephone directory. Such a Knightmare wasn't going to go down from an attack by an Akatsuki of all things.

**WWW**

The blade snapped along its central axis and Kiriyama could only stare in shock before the Red Queen reacted, whirling her K-frame around and decapitating his unit before he could react. Blinded and lacking his sensors, Kiriyama attempted to retreat before he found his Akatsuki grinding to a halt.

The sudden increase in heat told him exactly what was about to happen as he screamed, the flesh searing from his bones before his bones too disintegrated to a fine dust, all in a matter of milliseconds as his Akatsuki exploded in a shower of molten metal. His sword lay splintered on the ground, not even a scratch on the surface of the Guren Tokijin.

Kallen whirled around to meet the other Knightmares as she flipped switches around her cockpit, eager to try out her Guren Tokijin in the field of battle, keen to baptise her new frame in the flames of battle.

She fired her Slash Harkens as she dodged to the left and then rammed into the opposing Akatsuki, dismembering them in a shower of flames and molten steel before she activated the plasma cannons and switched it to pulse mode, sending bolts of scorching white-blue plasma over the enemy Akatsuki's. She cycled quickly through the modes of fire - pulse, stream, charge, beam and blast – before setting it to pulse. She didn't have the full hang of her Knightmare yet.

In a matter of moments it was over as she looked at the remains of the Knightmare Frames scattered around her. She turned around just as an Indra came barrelling through a wall, a massive chain-axe grasped in the arms that were modified for close combat.

She hadn't heard or detected it coming, covered in a stealth film that greatly reduced its radar and thermal signature to the point that its sensor cross-section was comparable to an insect. She lashed out with a kick from her Guren, the Indra barely dodging the blow as it glanced across its torso and left a dent in its frontal armour. It backed away, giving ground as it made clear its intent was non-aggressive.

The calm voice of the pilot came over the tac/com, his face on screen that of a broad-nosed man of Indo-Tibetan descent. "Major Kozuki. I am Kshatriya Dhamsig of Clan Masig of the Rahai, of the lineage of Sahar, second cousin to the Emperor. Shah Fhajad sent me to aid you but I see that you require no such aid. Are you aware of the current situation? I'm unable to contact my Shah by all the means available to me."

Kallen shook her head. She didn't even know what was going on but could surmise one thing. The one thing Kaname Ohgi had always feared had just occurred. Elements of the Japan supremacist movements, supported by former member of the Japanese Liberation Front and the Kyoto House had struck.

"Escort me to the Guards HQ outside of Chiba. That's probably the safest place right now. I'll be going airborne to assess the situation. What's the disposition of military and police forces in the vicinity?"

With the click of a few buttons sent her a feed, letting her computer system establish a link to the main battle net. On her screen a deluge of orange dots fighting with small islands of blue rapidly appeared. Orange stood for units or entities of unknown alignment. The sheer number of them wasn't looking good. The feed fizzled with static as someone attempted disruption of the net, jamming the frequencies. Several times it got cut off but held.

"Major Kozuki. Several of the police units have seemingly turned on one another and have descended into chaos. Suicide bombers have breached the summit complex at multiple points in strength. The riot police have seemingly joined sides with rioters against the Singapore Guards."

"Anything else? Anything good?" Kallen asked. Dhamsig smiled grimly on the screen. Briefly she was reminded of the late Ryoga Senba. Another comrade lost to the war. To Britannia.

"Mobs of people are looting and destroying everything in the vicinity. And Guards HQ is unable to contact us. They're seemingly jammed. Even my fellow Kshatriya's are unable to coordinate. The situation is FUBAR."

Kallen continued to stare at the sheer number of orange on her displays before coming to a snap decision."You're coming with me Dhamsig. I know your Indra has a C3 (Command, Control & Communication) suite. Right now I'll need you to handle all my communications. We're going to regroup all of my battalion and we're going to contain this mess and coordinate with whoever's in command. Understood?"

"Affirmative major. I'll take position on your six" Dhamsig responded coolly, moving swiftly into line behind her, his chain-axe hefted into his right arm while he drew a chain-sword in his left. He lived to serve the Shah, his cousin and battle brother.

He'd heard Lord Fhajad's comments about this woman and her reputation in battle. The Red Queen. Her conduct during this time would give insight into her to say the least. And his initial impression of her was already favourable.

**WWW**

Navin stealthily made his way through the levels, up through the blasted checkpoints where the Guardsmen held the rioters and policemen at bay. So far the Guards had continued to use non-lethal options but they were fast running out as the aggression of the mobs increased with time.

Zaki had been at the command post when they'd lost contact with it and the last word of Anwar was that he'd deployed with his company down in the basement levels in an attempt to secure the foundations from being blown out by bombers.

He checked his cell phone again only to receive the same message. The communication facilities had been the first to go, the broadcast towers of all the major Tokyo telecommunications providers destroyed at the same time. The last news he'd received from the outside was of rioting throughout Tokyo and a shutdown of the airport.

He suddenly stopped as he heard a weak voice in his mind.

"_Navin. Come to the stairwell along the east service corridor along level two of the North Wing. It's me. Fhajad."_

"_Fhajad? Fhajad?"_ Navin shouted in his mind before turning as he heard a crack of glass. He whirled to see a guardsman wielding a pistol, pointed straight at him. His eyes had a violet tint to them, a glow that spoke of an external compulsion.

"Geass" Navin hissed. He willed the Geass nullifier in his bionic eyes to activate, the burst of electromagnetic energy extending out in a sphere that touched the man's mind, the tint of violet vanishing from his eyes, the glazed look disappearing as a look of realisation and horror overcame him. The Guardsman turned to look at Navin. His rank epaulets on his shoulder told Navin he was a subaltern, a 2nd Lieutenant Hajinder.

"You. What the hell's going on?" Navin spoke as he closed with the man. The man seemed shell shocked but lucid before he turned to look back down the corridor. His expression was glazed, confused and puzzled. Not the typical look of a guardsman.

"Hajinder. My name is Navin. Look at me. Focus on me" Navin said as he grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him firmly, attempting to get his attention. The man turned and looked at him before he began to whisper, a babble of words flowing from him.

"Blood everywhere. The stun rounds ran out....we....used live rounds. Killed them all. Women. Children. All of them. Pregnant women. They all charged us. Used their bodies as shield. Grenades. Pistols. They didn't _care....then...then...they"_

A haunted look came to the man's face as he screamed. The violet tint came back to his eyes as he turned and rammed his head into the concrete, fracturing his skull before he tore himself free from Navin and drew his pistol. He aimed it at Navin and fired a burst his way before slamming it into his mouth and pressing the trigger.

Navin dodged around the subsonic rounds. Travelling at trans-sonic speeds, the rounds flew by him in slow motion as he moved, barely evading them with centimetres to spare. Assault rifle rounds would have been another matter entirely at this range. Navin's motor coordination and reflexes were superhuman, enough to evade pistol rounds but not enough to evade rifle rounds which travelled at more than three times the speed of sound. He ducked behind the wall before the gunshot and the silence that followed told him of what had just occurred.

He went and knelt by the man's corpse, pulling the pistol from his still warm grip, trying to ignore the grisly mess of grey matter, blood and bone chips that lay embedded in the wall or splattered around the floor.

Taking the pistol, he proceeded more cautiously, using the zoom function and thermal imaging of his eyes to look ahead of him. He zoomed in on the stairwell two hundred metres ahead of him as he looked up, noticing the contingent of people that stood there, visible through the imaging matrix.

At both ends of the stairwell were hastily erected emplacements manned by a mix of police and guardsmen. The policemen looked particularly spooked compared to the mean look the guardsmen affected

"_Come to the entryway. The password is 'Requiem'" _Fhajad spoke in his mind. Navin lacked any form whatsoever of psychic ability, latent or otherwise. But his brother had it in spades. Another thing that distanced him and Fhajad aside from their different mothers.

He opened the door with his foot. Before he could say the word he found himself assaulted with a rapid series of chain punches before he found himself landing facefirst on the floor, a knee pressed to the small of his back.

"No sudden moves. No sudden words. Keep your eyes on the floor. You're -" came a dangerous voice before another one cut in. The pressure on his back was relieved and the soldier helped him up.

"I'm expecting him. At ease Guardsman" came a firm voice. Navin looked up to see Miguel looking down at him as the guardsman released him. Navin stood up and rolled his shoulder, loosening it up after the sudden lock it'd been caught in.

"Password?"

"Requiem. But you already knew that Uncle Mig" said Navin. Miguel gave a tired smile before beckoning to him. His formal shirt was torn in several places and blackened with soot, with minor cuts along the length of his chin.

"Your brother needs you. I'll leave you to talk to him. Now go. I'll deal with this mess. We need to evacuate Nunnally and the rest out of here. The guardsmen down in the basement are securing a route. The psychic weapons...". Miguel shook his head. This was something he hadn't expected at all.

**WWW**

Nunnally leaned against the wall, holding a pistol. She'd been in the gym when the attack occurred. Her bodyguards had quickly sequestered her away and now she was here, sweating, dirty and wielding a pistol that she kept by her side. It was only now she realised Miguel's foresight in forcing her to learn point shooting, advanced pistol handling and getting advanced training in Krav Maga.

Fhajad leaned heavily against the wall, breathing heavily as a stream of blood dripped from his eyes, ears and nose. Hera sat in a corner, oddly serene despite everything as she fingered a small crystal around her neck. Nunnally vaguely remembered that her father Amshel had given it to her on her wedding day. Sophia stood next to Fhajad, worriedly rubbing his back but unable to do anything.

An individual who bore a resemblance to Fhajad made his way through the screen of Kshatriya's that protected them and walked over to Fhajad, an aloof yet uncertain attitude in his bearing. The Kshatriya's were all his personal guard, Fhajad's silencers and enforcers, all cousins of his. All powerful psychics in their own right, low-level Tier 3's or 4's as measured by the Chawla-Kurzweil Psychic Index, specialising in prescience as was the talent of their lineage.

Nunnally had seen the reports on this elite unit of soldiers, pilots whose skill in combat matched and in many cases had been shown to exceed those of the Knights of the Rounds. Their general combat skill was seen to match that of the late Bismarck Waldstein, whose only known loss in direct combat was to Fhajad Sahar and his death at the hands of Suzaku Kururugi.

"Odd isn't it, how we're supposed to discuss strategic arms limitations? I'd always wondered why we tabled a topic about _persons of mass destruction_" Nunnally commented. Fhajad nodded but remained knelt over, fighting off the immense amount of pain.

All of Nunnally's entourage had turned their psychic nullifiers to their highest setting, preventing any access to their minds, including Hera. The tension was thick in the room. Out of nowhere, seemingly innocent people who had no known terrorist background or even any remote connections to them had started to act violently, driven to kill all in their path as if under the compulsion of Geass.

Her own bodyguards, personally vetted by her security chief, whose families had served Britannia loyally for years, had abruptly tried to kill her. It was only through the swift reaction of Fhajad that they'd managed to stave off the worst effects of whatever was happening.

Still, Nunnally wasn't taking any chances, nor was her entourage. Miguel had his own men, even his own security chief Carlos, turning their nullifiers to the full range. Geass and psychic compulsion worked on the same basis of altering psychic patterns within the mind, though psi was more dangerous in that it could be contagious, even spreading in the form of a mental virus. A contagion passed on by proximity alone.

Neither did she fancy a psychic poking around in her mind. The knowledge of the Sahar family's unique gifts was something only she, Sophia, Schneizel and other senior leaders of Britannia and the UFN were privy to. Another reason for the tension with India that had arisen since their meteoric ascent to rulership.

She suddenly felt a rustle of activity pass through the crowd. Miguel came up to her, kneeling by her side, face blackened with soot. Dried blood stained the patrician face, a gash on his forehead courtesy of a rogue Britannian agent inserted undercover as a caterer.

"Empress. We're evacuating you to the roof where a helicopter will evacuate you and your entourage. Fhajad has elected to stay here. Electronic communication has been scrambled and is being jammed throughout Chiba. Riots have erupted in the rest of the city. Tokyo is in total chaos. VX gas has been released into the subways. Bombs have been detonated through the city. All subway stations have been bombed. The police force is in total disarray. We're getting you out of here. I'll be staying."

"But Miguel, I-" Nunnally started before Miguel silenced her with a cutting gesture. "You're the Empress. This is an international incident. The Empire needs you in control. As it is the military already has a carrier group on standby. Mistress Hera...it seems that having the peace summit wasn't a very good idea after all."

Hera nodded, an ironic smile on her face. "Did you just say that you told me so?" she asked. Miguel nodded.

A Kshatriya came up to them, eyes flickering left and right. Alert yet fatigued, anyone could see the man was on edge. But his training held. A telepath used to a transparent world of thoughts around him, he was less accustomed to the oral communication of the blanks.

"The tower is in danger of collapse. All the foundation pillars have been destroyed except one. That is currently being guarded by a platoon of Singapore Guards led by a Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra. I've been told he'll probably hold out until hell freezes over but you'd like to leave before that Empress. So please proceed up the stairs."

Hera gracefully got up and went over to Nunnally, lending her arm for support. The effect of the crystal would persist for about two more days. Enough time to create enough of a mess that the world media would descend upon the chaos like vultures to a corpse.

"_Soon. The dominos will fall very soon."_

**WWW**

Navin's attention shifted at the mention of Anwar's name and the movement of people up the stairwell. Sophia pulled his attention back to him by clutching his chin with her fingers.

"Listen to me. Will you do it?"

Navin stared blankly at his brother who gave a low moan of pain as he clutched his head, rocking himself as he knelt on the floor, unable to even stand. The brother who'd always mistreated him since the day of their father's death.

"I will. But it's not for my brother I'm doing this. Not for him. Not for you. Not for -"

"Oh shut up!" Sophia said with exasperation even as Nunnally motioned for her to follow. She gave a sidelong glance at her betrothed. She knew he'd be fine. He was the Black Tiger. But his wish was for her to live.

To carry the fraternal twins she held in her womb to safety. Heirs to the thrones of Britannia and the Indian Raj both. To stay wouldn't only be dangerous but selfish as well no matter how much she desired it.

"Your brother is shielding each and every one of us, even you!" she hissed, pulling him close even as she slipped him the key to the Knightmare Fhajad had made for his brother. "Even your little lover. Your precious Kallen Kozuki. He's with her right now, shielding her mind even as his own cousin shields her body."

"Even as those people out there suffer, Fhajad is with them. He's shielding us from whatever's making people go insane. He's the one holding up more than a million metric tons of skyscraper. What? You think a single foundation pillar matters? If that pillar goes Fhajad won't be able to stop the complex from collapsing in on itself. He's the one trying to suppress the madness from spreading, containing it to Chiba. Even as we speak he's trying to get communication with India. Srinagar's been hit by nuclear weapons. At least a hundred of his clan are dead."

Navin's eyes narrowed before opening, realisation seeping in. "How do you know that?"

"Simple. He told me. Fhajad's always with me. You think you were mistreated? He was making you strong, distancing you so assassins within his own family wouldn't kill you. His position is one of absolute power and absolute loneliness. Only I and a few understand him. Your brother has _no_ friends. Only followers. Only family. So understand me when I ask you...become the Demon Thunder you once were. Become your brother's shield. Become his demon. _Become_. That's all."

She turned and left, leaving the key dangling in Navin's hand.

"And what if I don't?" he whispered, doubt already knawing at the anger in his core. The core he'd never let anyone enter. Not even Kallen. As he turned to leave, the voice within answered.

"_Then people will die. You want to fight? To feel the glorious slaughter? The spirit of the dead leaving? I'm a part of you Navin. The persona you made to shield you from the horrors of war as a child. Like all the techniques Rania taught you to protect your mind. The compartmentalisation. The cultivation of such separate persona's. The one that pilots the Nightmare of War. The one that enjoys it all. __**So**__**let me free!"**_

Sophia watched Navin race down the stairs three at a time as he rushed towards where the Knightmare his brother had set aside for him was. A specialised close combat Knightmare, Rakshata had created a piece of art, if a machine of slaughter could be called one.

Fittingly, Sophia had asked Nunnally to name it and she felt Nunnally had surpassed her expectation. It was the first of its kind, a production model prototype. _Iruel._ The Angel of Terror.

**WWW**

Anwar dragged the 2nd Lieutenant Crescas with him back into the confines of the side corridor, round after round slamming into the mob of attackers. Women, children and men of all ages and size threw themselves against the blast door using anything they could wield as weapons.

The corpses of those they'd killed were piled at least two metres high, taking up the entire height of the corridor and blocking the flow of people, making it even more confined and claustrophobic. His gaze passed over the dead eyes that stared back at him, their final moments of death ending with a smile plastered on their face.

There'd been no warning. The summit had been going well with loud but otherwise mostly peaceful protests against the usual issues of globalisation and cries for war crimes tribunals and reparations by Britannia, along with opposition to the policy of reconciliation followed by both the UFN and Britannia in seeking a workable peace. All of a sudden people had started to die as bombs exploded amongst the crowds and the police had spontaneously started firing on everyone.

Anwar hadn't believed it at first until he'd witnessed a massacre on the video feeds just before they'd been cut off. They'd attempted to contact police command but were unable to get anything before guardsmen had suddenly started to go insane, randomly shooting themselves in the head or firing on everyone around them.

Then the mobs began to break through as even the hotel staff began to attack them, forcing the Guards to barricade themselves inside the command centre. The command centre had quickly been cut off, an isolated island in a sea of violence.

In the end elements of the Guards had managed to link up with the Kshatriya's and VIPs who'd been hiding in an emergency stairwell in the east wing. While the greater part of the battalion had been deployed just outside of Chiba, two companies had been deployed directly within the security zone, Alpha and Bravo.

Alpha was all but annihilated aside from two platoons who'd decided to use lethal force and fought their way out of the convention complex via unarmed combat. The last words Anwar had received of his comrades from those two platoons were that they planned to link up with Battalion HQ before the radio net was reduced to static.

"Medic! Attend to him. Ok. Crescas is down. Padukone?"

"Encik?" the platoon sergeant asked his CSM, awaiting the command.

"Take charge of your men. I'll....what the fuck!" Anwar said as he turned to look at the blast door slowly heating up. Red spots of heat appeared as the door, made of three inches of hardened steel, began to run down in molten rivulets.

"Where the fuck did those fuckers get a fucking laser?" he asked in disbelief. Who the hell were these people? All over the nets all they repeated was the name De Dios. Will of God.

"I have no idea Encik" Padukone answered before Anwar gave him an irritated look.

"That was rhetorical. Get your men out of here. You got 21 men. 8 dead, another 3 injured, 2 in critical condition. Your PC is down for the count. Your medic's out of morphine and your guys are running out of ammo. Sergeant Tan and his section are going to help casevac (casualty evacuate) your injured. I'll need some volunteers to help me hold here. Just five men."

Padukone shook his head. "Encik. That's...suicide. We're out of ammo. We ran out of live ammo and stun rounds. We're...the men are scared _shitless_ sir. _I'm scared shitless._"

Anwar glanced over the corpses strewn along the wall, mostly civilians, a few policemen, the corpses of his Guards.

A pregnant woman's dismembered corpse sat in gruesome pile in the centre, charred innards mixed with bone fragments, her face oddly serene in death. At her bosom was clutched a small toddler, now dead as well. She'd clutched a grenade and thrown herself against the line they'd formed, killing five of his men.

Anwar didn't display it, hiding his own worry beneath a facade of aggression and aloofness but he was terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened before. How could a normal man in the street suddenly become a violent lunatic? How could a dedicated policeman suddenly become a zealous terrorist?

His own family, his parents and siblings, all were housed in the base camp in Johore where there'd been reports of a bombing in the residential section. His wife and children, brought here on holiday just before the summit started had been at the airport where travellers had been taken hostage. But first he'd get through this.

He laid a hand on Padukon's shoulder and squeezed it briefly. He spoke softly and reassuringly to his subordinate. "Don't think about it. Look after your pack. Look after your men. Bring them home. No mercy. No remorse. No regret. We're Guardsmen. They were the enemy. They attacked. We defended ourselves. No more. No less."

"But the child -"

"_No mercy. No remorse. No regret_." Anwar gave a final squeeze, trying to reassure Padukone as he turned to face the door. They were soldiers. They held the line. No more. No less. They had no other choice.

_**A/N**__:_For those unfamiliar with the terms, 'Encik" which is pronouched 'En-Check" is a term in the Malay language that is used to refer to senior non-commissioned and warrant officers within the military of Singapore. Given that every Singaporean man has to serve two years in the military, police or civil defence (fire fighters and paramedics) as conscripts, most Singaporean men have a background in these uniformed services.

The Singapore Guards is an actual unit and you can read about it on Wikipedia. It combines the roles of the US Marine and the US Army Rangers. They are basically elite shock troops and raiders. Where infantry hold the line and commando's work in enemy territory, Guardsmen work in the grey space in between, in the No Man's Land between hostile and allied forces, in the 'neutral' zone. Essentially, if commandos are in trouble, the Guardsmen rush in to save them.

Of course this story uses a fair bit of artistic license and ramps them up to something far beyond that. No, I'm not a Guardsman but I do know enough people from my army days and they're professionals working in the military worthy of respect. It's not a glamorous job, it's rather thankless and can be pretty shitty. Don't believe the ads. But someone needs to do it.

I served my time in the army and bring that background to writing my story. Up until now the story has been exposition with some action to draw attention but here's where the action starts. Thanks for sticking with me until now.

Any requests for explanations then just put it in a review.

**A/N 2**: A lot of technical details in here I know. So I apologise for that. It gets confusing but I'd like to give some basis for the technologies used in the design. Expect technical jargon for another chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

* * *

_The Tokyo Decimation of 2023 demonstrated to the world that WMDs weren't the only threat. At the end of the day, weapons such as FLEIJA, nuclear warheads, positron N2 bombs and other such instruments of destruction remain just that – __**instruments**__. What matters more is the hand that wields them. As the late Chairman Mao Zedong of the High Eunuch Council of the ChinFed was fond of saying; '__political power grows out from the barrel of a gun__'._

_A man with a gun has immense negotiating power for he wields an instrument that can awe and terrify, taking life and keeping people at bay. What matters is the mind behind the gun. With the advent of psychic warfare and the proliferation of psychic's worldwide, that mind could be controlled. With the revelation of the powers involved with the Code of Immortality, the Geass of Kings and the other hidden powers that are yet to be revealed, this changed the way in which warfare was approached._

_You weren't dealing with weapons of mass destruction anymore. You were dealing with __**people of mass destruction**_**. **_And that is when the entire paradigm of war as we knew it changed._

_Lectures on Military History by Lieutenant-Colonel Zaki Kozuki-Shan and Professor [Lieutenant-General (Ret)] Tycho Stadtfeld, Black Knight Military University of Hong Kong_

* * *

**WWW**

Suzaku slammed the blade of his Lancelot down on the opposing Akatsuki's blade before skewering it through the arm and leg actuators, disabling it without killing the pilot. Beside him Kyoshiro Tohdoh moved about swiftly in his Zangetsu, rapidly parrying blows from the berserk if ineffective strikes of a Japanese Knight Police Glasgow.

Cornelia brutally tore her way through several of the attacking Knightmares within her Gloucester Baskerville. A standard Gloucester with additional armour, she'd modified it with the addition of a thick Kevlar/Dyneema cape on her back that billowed backwards as she grabbed another Knightmare and threw it into a building facade.

She had two Maser Vibration Blades added to the forearms while adding a thermal lance as her main weapon. Heated to temperatures in excess of five thousand degrees Celsius, the ceramic drill was able to cut through all but the thickest armour. All of this was courtesy of a certain Pudding Earl.

The three of them - Suzaku, Kyoshiro and Cornelia - had become separated from the main contingent and been forced to fight their way out of the Chiba district. "Cornelia. Watch out on your right. Thermal imaging's picked up several soldiers in the buildings down the next road. Anti-tank missiles from what I'm reading" Kyoshiro spoke over the tac/com, his eyes coolly assessing the readout.

He minimised his attention towards Suzaku, knowing he could hold his own. While he hadn't seen combat in years, Tohdoh was still one of the acknowledged aces of Japan and one of the best within the UFN bar Kallen Kozuki the Red Queen, the Fhajad Sahar the Black Tiger and several of the Kshatriya's.

"私はあなたの英国の私の耳を乱用することをあなたは必要としない日本語を十分に話してもいい " Cornelia replied with a slight smile. Whatever was happening out there, it wasn't lost on her that she was fighting in Japan once again, under very different circumstances. The irony wasn't lost on her that she was fighting with Kyoshiro Tohdoh rather than against him. Kyoshiro looked at her.

"あなたの文法はひどいものだ !" he commented flatly before turning his attention back towards their enemies. In the heat of combat, all Cornelia could do was laugh. Just because she was Britannian didn't mean she couldn't appreciatie and understand the cultures of foreigners. She spoke fluent Arabic, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese and French. Enough to lecture people about it at military college if that counted for anything.

At the moment they detected a group of Burai Kai's and Gekka's approaching them. IFF tags identified them as members of the Black Knights 2nd Tokyo National Battalion, a regular armour battalion of the Black Knights that had been held in reserve.

Any hopes of friendly assistance were dashed as they raised their riles and opened fire, cries of "_De Dios!_" and "_Nippon Banzai!_" filling the net as the three of them were forced to circle back, dodging into side roads and alleys for cover as Chaos Mines exploded all around them. Though their Knightmares may have been superior, the sheer numbers of Knightmares they'd encountered had sapped their power reserves. Where they'd been contending with sheer mobs of Knightmares before, they were now confronted with a disciplined foe.

Kyoshiro's Zangetsu suddenly shook as heavy calibre gunfire raked across it, tungsten carbide tipped rounds ripping through armour and severing the actuators and hydraulic cables in the knees of his Zangetsu. It collapsed to the floor before Suzaku interposed himself between it and the incoming fire as a viscous liquid began to leak from beneath the Zangetsu's armour, sealing the cracks in it.

The nanopaste was a suspension of activated nanoparticles consisting of a slurry that formed a cement sealing the fracture beneath it. An innovation by UFN engineers, it was in the process of being fitted to elite Knightmares. At the same time micromachines, another recent innovation, all slightly larger than ants swarmed over the wound on the Knightmare, their micron size mandibles working frantically to seal the wound as they worked within, sealing cables and creating actuators and motors from the nanopaste.

The gunfire quickly changed to a hail of rockets that exploded against his Blaze Luminous before several misiles streaked out of nowhere and exploded in a shower of chaffsmoke that obscured their vision and blocked their sensors. Short-range electromagnetic pulses scrambled their electronic systems, dissipating his shield before a surge from a Gefjun disrupter slowed his Knightmare to a crawl.

A sudden movement in the smoke was all the warning he had before three Gekka's came flying through the air and slammed into an apartment building, pierced through by the thrown lance of Cornelia's Gloucester, the only kind in existence.

They were followed by a yell over the general combat net Cornelia barrelled through the smoke screen, Slash Harken's firing into a Gekka before she tore off it's arm and rammed it through the cockpit, pulping the pilot in a visible display of gore as gibbets of flesh erupted from the cockpit pod.

She turned and bisected another that came leaping out of the smoke, sword held above its hand. She ducked her Knightmare and grabbed another Burai by the legs, twisting as she swung it into a leaping Zangetsu painted in black and red, sending both slamming into a shopping arcade. The Zangetsu's arm bent at an odd angle, the Burai's head smashed into the body core of the Zangetsu.

Suzaku sidestepped another Gekka that bull rushed him, grabbing it by the head and diverting it into a wall at a hundred kilometres an hour. Enough to leave the pilot shaken and concussed thought not really stirred. And very much non-responsive.

A sudden shift by him to evade a gold and blue commander's Gekka Daken (essentially the same as as Kyoshiro Tohdoh's personalised Knightmare but a production model) that came out of nowhere caused him to fall to the ground. The man blasted the arms of his Lancelot, the sluggish servomotors and actuators refusing to respond to Suzaku's desperate input from within the cockpit.

He rolled to the left and leapt, using the extra space gained and the momentum he'd built to back thrust his Lancelot's leg into a penetrating kick that tore into the torso of the Knightmare and hit something, sending it stumbling to the ground. The arms smoked from the shells that had dented the armour, flattening as they impacted against the tiles arrayed across the surface.

The Gekka shoved him over as it bore down with it's thermic blade, the cutting edge glowing red with excess heat as the air shimmered around it. He used the Lancelot's legs to block it, the superior strength of the leg winning out as he pushed it away and rammed the other leg into its hip juncture, destroying the hip actuators and shattering the endoskeleton beneath. Hopping up and spinning back he rammed a Spinzaku into it, nailing it on the side and sending it crashing to the ground.

**WWW**

Since the defeat of the Lancelot Albion, Camelot engineers had redesigned and improved the basic model, replacing the traditional armour with diamasteel alloy which had been designed with extreme mechanical strength, the hardness of diamond and heightened thermal resistance in mind,designed to counter the Guren's RWS in part. This had been further reinforced with boron nitride fibres to enhance the survivability of both Knightmare and pilot.

Aside from a reactor output boosted by 150%, there was the addition of an extra close combat weapon tucked into the torso of the Lancelot Trentor in the form of a dual LBX autocannon that was run by a backup electromechanical ignition system. The LBX could rip a standard Sutherland or Burai to shreds in a few shots when fired at point blank range, the spread of armour-piercing fragments, each equal to 50 grams of TNT equivalents, able to shred through all but the thickest armour or energy shields. It was in essence a scaled up shotgun for Knightmares.

The final addition had been of a 32 megajoule railgun pod housed in the torso. Firing hypersonic projectiles at well over Mach 8, the only known systems able to survive it were energy shields, the projectile easily able to tear through even six feet of solid steel-encased depleted uranium.

Drawing a bead on the Gekka, Suzaku opened fire, watching the large holes that tore open the Gekka as the physical impact of the shotgun caused his own Lancelot to recoil. In a spray of hydraulic fluid he hit a vital component of the Gekka and watched as the pilot ejected.

He shifted his feet as his acoustic sensors picked up a veritable click-clack of assault rifle breeches being loaded echoing through the air. He looked up, the factsphere spinning into activation as Suzaku looked down the barrels of several Guren Nishiki radiation surgers and Gekka assault rifles. Cornelia ground to a halt as several Burai's simultaneously dogpiled her, locking the limbs of her Knightmare into submission as motors screamed in protest.

He found several assault rifles levelled at his cockpit, the fingers of the KMF's twitching near th trigger. Tohdoh's Zangetsu rose slowly from its prone position as a masked face appeared on his screen. A man in a Zero mask. An imposter A modulated voice, mechanical and cold, spoke out even as laser dots played across their Knightmares. "Suzaku Kururugi, traitor of Japan. General Kyoshiro Tohdoh. Imperial Princess Cornelia. A pleasure to meet you. We're need of hostages. And you're just -"

A sudden chorus of screams cut across entire frequencies at once as a sable-silver Knightmare with gold filligree and 'eyes' that glowed a baleful red crashed through a wall. In a horrendous orchestra of brutality it rammed itself into the middle of the Gekka's and lashed out, horrific screams of agony and thunder filling the tac/com, suppressing all other sounds.

In seconds it was over, the seven Knightmares dismembered as the nightmarish-looking saviour of the three stomped on the cockpits, grinding the pilots under heel. It began to echo a harsh but low laughter that caused Suzaku's hairs to rise. Cornelia backed away, getting her lance back from the rubble of the buildings as she kept it pointed at the new combatant.

She activated her Factsphere and zoomed in, noticing the flag of the Black Knights on it as the name of the pilot scrolled onto her screen.

Lt. Navin Chirac. The Demon Thunder.

**WWW**

The Iruel Knightmare Frame, a derivative of the Israeli Vashiel Knightmare, was a marvel of Bangladeshi-Israeli engineering. In the past century, when Britannia had ceded India to the rule of the Chinese Eunuchs in exchange for military aid in the pacification of the South American and African territories, the Sahar family had invested heavily in Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, setting up scientific free zones, free of academic and tax restrictions, attracting the best and brightest of Europe and Asia to set up shop there.

As such, in a radically different revision of history, Indian engineering derived its reputation of ruggedness and precision from early influence of Swiss and German engineers who'd set up polytechnics and universities in those areas. Much like Hong Kong remained a Britannian city-state, Germany, Switzerland, France and Sweden had been granted concession territories in certain zones of India as a way of attracting investment and solidifying their reputation as centres of excellent in education, business and engineering.

The presence of such engineering and scientific talent, with the vast amounts of money invested in the production of the Knightmare Frames by Israel and the Indian Commonwealth, along with an inflow of Japanese talent, had left Rakshata Chawla overwhelmed with a mob of highly educated and motivated engineers whom she'd put to good use.

The Iruel had nearly been thrown to the wayside until Fhajad Sahar had earmarked it as a pet project and requested a rugged, durable Knightmare Frame that could take out as much damage as it dished out. Simple, rugged and reliable. The starting point had been the Vashiel which had evolved to the Iruel, a standard Knightmare used amongst the Taipei Axis nations of which Israel was a part of. Ultimately it had become the Ganishka, an Iruel variant used only by the Kshatriya's of the Sahar family.

The Ganishka was amongst the heaviest Knightmare Frames, arguably second only to the Britannian Galahad piloted by the late Bismarck Waldstein in weight. A compact, rugged Knightmare with a low centre of gravity, it's durability was best described as insane and its firepower as monstrous. Not a match for the Guren Toukijin, Lancelot, Gawain or Indra in firepower but who needed firepower when you could tank through multiple plasma bursts and an explosion that was the TNT equivalent of 20 tons of TNT without shields?

Lacking all the agility of the Guren or the streamlined sophistication of the Lancelot and the energy shielding of both, it overcompensated by having what was essentially several layers of Titanium-A in between which was sandwiched slabs of depleted uranium with boron nitride and plates of synthetic diamond plate constructed by nanomachines lacing the entire superstructure, superconductive cables lacing the entire surface to dissipate radiation-based attacks.

In between all of this was a magnetorheological fluid consisting of carbonyl iron particles in a carrier liquid with proprietary additives. When magnetised by a release of magnetic charges upon kinetic impact it hardened and added another layer of armour in between all the _other_ armour.

Its arsenal consisted of the new PPC (Particle Projection Cannon), a particle-beam weapon which projected plasma in either searing bolts of blue or streams of blue-white plasma that inflicted tremendous thermal, kinetic and electrical damage to the physical structure of an object.

Furthered by the fact that it wielded a 'Gallilean Non-Linear Directed Energy Weapon', essentially a potential-to-kinetic chemical laser that could penetrate three metres of depleted uranium sandwiched between two layers of half-metre thick Titanium-A and one had an extremely good idea of the fact that stealth was rather pointless from the basis of a Ganishka looking like Godzilla's anus on a bad case of diarrhoea when one applied thermal imaging to view it.

The technology that drove it was simple. Unlike so many others, it ran on a hybrid of a powerful diesel engine and nuclear fusion reactor, therefore allowing it to generate a noxious smoke screen but destroying any and all forms of stealth, simply because there wasn't any space to install additional stealth technology amongst all the armour, guns and actuators.

The final distinction about it was that unlike the basic Lancelot or Guren which could overhead lift a maximum of twice their own payload, the Ganishka could lift six times its own weight, compared to the Guren Tokijin which could lift only five times its own mass. The sheer strength suited the design requirements for what Fhajad required of it - close quarters battle.

**WWW**

Navin thundered through the assembled squad of six, ripping their limbs apart as their joints gave way to the brute strength of his charge, tossing them to the side. He expertly slid to the left and bashed a Burai into the ground, smashing its elbows before grabbing another and twisting melted the torso as the pilot ejected, slagging the Knightmare with his PPC.

Unsurprisingly, martial arts principles applied very much to close combat involving Knightmare Frames when engaged in close combat. With heavily armoured multi-ton machines, unsurprisingly the arts of grappling were applied on a larger scale, as were weapon arts, the axe and sword finally making a comeback after centuries of neglect, though on a much larger scale. Kyoshiro Tohdoh had been the one who'd originated the idea of chainsaw katana's after all.

He parried a blow from a maser blade on his shoulder armour, the blade cutting thick gouges into the armour before he slammed into the enemy Knightmare and broke it. The sudden shock of his entrance had tossed them into disarray even as the recorded screams of agony, thunder and gunfire rang out from his loudspeakers, over radio frequencies and the open air.

He threw the last Gekka full on into a Burai just as another Guren came out of nowhere and slammed into him, grabbing his arm. It clamped down and activated the radiation wave surger, sending a blast of heat through his Knightmare. The armour on his left arm slagged and bubbled away but the endoskeleton held firm.

"_Shit. Another shot and my Ganishka could loose it" _Navin thought. He failed to consider the fact that had it been any other Knightmare he'd have been dead. He ripped his arm free as the molten titanium and uranium ran down in streams from his Knightmare, dripping like blood as it glowed with heat.

Cornelia, Suzaku and Kyoshiro rapidly joined their saviour and saved him in turn as they dispatched the rest of them with ridiculous ease, the Ganishka absorbing the firepower thrown at it while Cornelia's Gloucester deftly evaded them and speared through the cockpits with its lance. They finally turned to pay attention to the new arrival.

"Ah. You. You're Ben Nair's son" Kyoshiro commented. Navin stifled an exasperated sigh. Legacies were something he hated. He'd never asked for this shit. All he wasnted to do was to live for himself, not being compared to his father or brother all the time.s

"Yes sir.I know of you General Tohdoh. My father spoke of you highly. May I suggest heading to Guards HQ over in Suginami sir?"

Tohdoh grimaced. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police had been reduced to chaos as bombs had gutted the main police headquarters while several departments and prefectural divisions ran rampant. Out of nowhere the rioters had become a violent mob that turned on their fellow Japanese. The only way to explain it was either some sort of mass hallucination or Geass. Nunnally had spoken of psychic compulsion during the briefings on the special projects each major power currently had hidden away.

Waiters who had no reason or motivation to even act violently had suddenly attacked them, throttling each other to death and setting fire to the hotels they worked in. The armoured police and riot squads had suddenly taken to firing on rioters and passers-by alike.

But confusing this even more was the fact that several Japanese purists factions had arisen at the same time, aiming to kill off the Britannians present in Japan as well as the other foreigners. Several of his own trusted sub-commanders had turned against the governement, motivated not by Geass or money but by their own beliefs. A vision of Japan that the system as it was did not share.

In many ways the power of logic and rational thought was less than when compared to the short-term power of zealous faith and fanaticism. He and all his senior staff kept Geass neutralisers on hand and they certainly served to disrupt psychic intrusions. But from what little he'd gathered, this was something even worse. A sort of psychic virus.

Thoughts flashed through Kyoshiro's mind as he assessed the situation. Isolated from most allied forces in territory with an unknown number of hostile and allied agents, he had to make a decision. Head for higher ground to observe, analyse and evaluate the situation. From there he could act. The Guards HQ in Suginami was the logical first choice. Knowing their reputation they'd have held out and rallied their forces to act.

"Ok. All of you form up in a diamond pattern. Chirac, you take point. Cornelia on the left. Zero. You take the rear. Now all we need to do is -" Tohdoh was cut off by the sudden burst of static on the radio as a brilliant light bloomed in the distance.

**WWW**

Kallen soared like the wind above the district, reports finally reaching her from the scattered elements of her battalion. Several platoons of K-frames and infantry who'd been marked as friendly had suddenly reverted to firing on them ineffectually before a sudden change had overcome them and to Kallen's horror had immolated themselves alive. Reports spoke of individuals possessing the same power as Lelouch circulating amongst the mobs while images of Kyoshiro Tohdoh exhorting the purists to greater violence filled the screens, his thunderous voice cutting across the city as they blared from loudspeakers.

Dhamsig flew beside her, keeping to her side like a remora to a shark. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to cut through the immense static that pervaded the psychic frequencies, seeking his Shah. His fellow Kshatriya were still unable to pierce the static that enveloped them.

He was blind in a way humans could never understand, robbed of the intimacy of the psychic communion that bound him to his brethren. Yet through it all he could sense the immense power of the Shah-Emperor and his brother, Altair Sahar, Altair ibn La-Ahad, he who was the 'Son of None' flaring like a beacon, the immense strain they endured as he sought to fight off the psychic shadow.

For the Kshatriya, all of them high level Tier 3 or Tier 4 psychics, it took all of their might to simply shield themselves and those around them. Fhajad was in turn shielding all of them and fighting the psychic virus, fighting off _something_ that disrupted the power of psi, holding aloft the skyscraper, communicating with his brother and at the same time attempting to ward off the scrambling. It was like a sapient awareness, focusing all its efforts on the most powerful psychic present.

He felt the death echoes throughout the city, several brilliant lights snuffed from existence, a fire that burnt no longer. For his Shah it would be worse. Kallen's sharp command cut through the tac/com as she barked orders at him.

"Dhamsig. Are you listening? Relay to 2nd Guards HQ at Suginami that I need reinforcements on the edge of the perimeter. We need to keep the rioters contained in Chiba. Also try and find updates on the VIPs. We've cleared the ECM beacons that were jamming communications. Now punch through and find out what we can do."

A missile suddenly streaked out from a nearby skyscraper. Dhamsig reflexively interposed himself between Kallen and the missile, letting his shield bear the brunt of it before he replied with a massive burst from his baryon cannon, annihilating the rooftop in a flash of light and explosion of rubble.

Abruptly a new burst of static scramble the tactical communication nets before a UAV entered the local airspace, its coded laser bursts reaching Dhamsig and Kallen and feeding them information that flowed into their computers.

**WWW**

Kallen's eyes widened as she read the reports. The situation wasn't as bad as she'd thought it was. It was worse. When she'd first gained the information feed it had been like entering a tunnel and seeing the light ahead, only for the light to be an express train barrelling towards you.

She read the reports as they streamed in. Throughout Tokyo and Kyoto, members of the former Japan Liberation Front in collusion with Japanese commanders of the Black Knights had orchestrated a shutdown of the airport. A mob of Japanese supremacists had entered the airport, only for an Islamic terror group to come out of nowhere and set off car bombs throughout the airport.

Narita International Airport was a smoking ruin, columns of smoke rising from it in the distance. Throughout the city a pall of smoke hung over as columns rose from burning barricades made of vehicles and abandoned Knightmare Frames.

Throughout the world stories came in of several hundreds of thousands dead across several major cities with numbers approaching the millions. Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem no longer existed, simply vast craters of fused glass that could only be the work of FLEIJA bombs. And only one country possessed the technology – Britannia.

Similarly the Sinai Peninsula was a wasteland, rocked by multiple detonations of N2 bombs or p-bombs, positron-based antimatter weapons whose origins arose from none other than Japanese superweapon projects. Cairo was a smoking waste, the result of launches from Indian nuclear submarines that patrolled the Indian Ocean. Mumbai and Kolkatta were ruins, reduced to concrete skeletons with more than fifty million dead in between them.

Srinagar in Kashmir was no longer amongst the cities of the living, its concrete skeleton wiped clean by the 200 megaton nuclear warhead whose detonation had scoured much of the surrounding countryside.

"What the hell?" Kallen whispered to herself as the remnants of the Black Knigh regular forces or at least what remained of it began to report in, confusion reigning as people awakened from the psychic cloud that lifted off them. She placed a rally point at an auxiliary base in Urayasu, the waypoint marked in a vibrant blue. In an instant a flow of blue arrows began to move towards it. She then turned her attention to the intelligence feed from the Black Knights DIVCOM in Ichigaya.

"Dhamsig....are you getting this?" she whispered, attempting to control her horror as she read the news that reached her. The scale of what had occurred, the multiple attacks that were there spoke of enormous coordination and conspiracy amongst greater powers. There could be no other way for something like this to happen. Not without people high up cooperating. That and all the implications of the attacks rushed through her mind before she breathed out.

It was not a problem yet. Not her problem. Breathe and focus on the current problem. She was in command. Her CO was dead which left her in charge. Evaluate. Decide. Act. She breathed out and relaxed, concentrating on the exhalations through her mouth as Naoto had taught her, as Kaname Ohgi had drilled into her since young. Breathe. Relax. Focus.

A spike of relief reached her as she read the report of Kyoshiro Tohdoh enroute to Suginami accompanied by Cornelia, Zero and Navin. Once Kyoshiro took command things would fall into place. Kiseki no Tohdoh. She wouldn't have to worry about Navin a well. He was an elite pilot. Nowhere near as good as her. Not even close. But good enough to match an Imperial Knight judging from his combat record. Her handphone beeped as she received a message from her mother and read it, relief flooding her mind. She'd been evacuated from their home though details were sparse.

Kallen calmed down finally and gave a devil-may-care smile. She could do this. Everything would be alright.

**WWW**

Dhamsig wordlessly nodded as news from his homeland of the Tibetan Amalgamated Territories reached him, a protectorate of the Indian Commonwealth. He scrolled down and paused as he read the message that all links with Lhassa had been cut, seismic monitors indicating multiple explosions as news streamed in from the military intelligence feeds of the Black Knights. At the back of his mind worry for his family and friends seeped into his mind.

He blanked it out and buried it somewhere within him, a half-smile on his face. They were not an immediate concern. If they were dead....then they were dead. He was Kshatriya. If they were dead ,which he could find out later, he would avenge them in his own. If not, then all was would be well.

Not many people would have understood a Rahai mindset. They were a practical people, a race of psychics forged from the outcasts that had survived multiple purges throughout history. Their loyalty lay with the Sahar family for they had given them purpose and protected them. And the Sahar were one of them. Blood bound them.

Kallen rapidly voiced out messages to her subalterns, the speech-text software of her computer noting it down inflections and all. She attempted to cobble a working battalion command structure together, unable to use her audiovisual comm suite due to the congested frequencies.

Dhamsig suddenly cried out in alarm as the psychic haze that scrambled his abilities lifted and the voices of a thousand chattering minds filled his own, overwhelming him as they rushed into it like ice water drowning a man. Abruptly it halted as he felt the presence of his cousins halt it, Fhajad and Altair exerting themselves as they finally broke through the psychic haze that obscured the area, ripping through the vicious psychic virus that bound people to a malicious will.

Kallen and Dhamsig were suddenly blinded by the bright light that filled the sky as the sakuradite mines of Mount Fuji detonated. They only had a few seconds before the shockwave slammed into them, sending their Knightmares flying into oblivion.

**WWW**

Anwar clamped his teeth down on the man's throat and tore it open, his trachea coming loose in a spray of blood, the severed carotid artery pumping the lifeblood of the man into a pool of red that surrounded Anwar. Taking the riot shield he'd requisitioned from a policeman who now lay dead, he rammed it into the face of a woman and shoved her backwards, using his machete to hack at her arms, cleaving her limbs. She dropped and screamed in pain before he kicked her backwards.

He twirled and hammered an elbow into the clavicle of the man who tried to sneak up on him from behind, grabbing and throwing him over his shoulder before breaking another man's neck with a single chop. He slammed another man in the sternum with a powerful knee thrust before breaking another man's back with a swift kick.

Behind him one of his soldiers took their last grenade and threw it through the blast doors. He and his five soldiers immediately dropped to the floor, their riot shields raised and slanted at an angle. The blast and the spray of fragments that peppered them was their signal to rise, machetes at the ready.

The entire corridor was gutted, hot steam filling it as it escaped from the pipes. Even that hadn't stopped these people from attacking him. Another wave of madmen, for that was the only word Anwar could use to describe them, surged from the steam, the second degree scalds from the steam nothing but an inconvenience. Flaps of pink skin hung from their reddened flesh, their fingernails tatters as they clutched whatever weapons they could.

Anwar and his men met their charge with the trained ferocity typical of Guardsmen, repelling them with the same brutality they'd met all their predecessors with. An individual Guardsman was trained to a level beyond what most conventional military organisations saw a need to train their men to. Training emphasised physical endurance-strength just like any other elite military unit but an inordinate amount of time was often spent on fieldcraft and unarmed combat. The first three battalions of the Guards Formation were labelled the Guards Ultras for a damn good reason.

**WWW**

After they'd burnt through the blast door with an industrial laser, Anwar had covered the withdrawal of Padukone and his platoon while he remained. Unlike what most media portrayed of soldiers, Anwar was a realist and above all was pragmatic to the core.

He was a professional soldier of 17 years, having enlisted at 16, with a family of 5 children, 4 sisters, 3 brothers and parents to care for. In short there was no way in hell he was making a suicidal last stand and furthermore, he saw absolutely no need for either himself or any of his men, who all had families, to die. The enemy were doing that exceptionally well for them at the moment.

They were not cowards. Far from it. They were normal men trained to a superlative degree above what most soldiers could even hope to attain, taught by cadres of superbly trained men, equipped with the instruments needed to achieve their mission goals. More importantly, they had the psychological tools, resilience and endurance to ensure they could and would survive.

But the situation they faced was pushing them to the limits. Without regard to their safety, an endless stream of civilians and paramilitary personnel threw themselves upon them, exhausting them as they barely held on. The ROE (Rules of Engagement) had to be ignored. Short of ammunition and reduced to their bare essentials they'd done all they could. Each and every one of them felt fear and controlled it. If anyone had admitted to being fearless if couldn't have been further from the truth.

The men with Anwar were all Guards Ultras like him, all trained in LQCC (Letal Close Quarters Combat), a Southeast Asian variant of various military combatives. They were either Level 4 or 5 in rank, easily instructor or expert grade and able to take on most opposition with ease. Anwar was one of the few dozen who ranked at Level 6 and _that_ spelt trouble.

They ducked to the sides as several Zero imposters began to approach their place, using fire movement as they moved amongst the piles of bodies, shielding themselves from view. A bullet flew past Anwar's ear, clipping his armour, another stopped short by the ceramic tiles of his survival suit. The nanofabrics shifted as they adjusted themselves to further conceal him against the background, their colours a mixture of pixelation and puzzle camouflage against the grey concrete walls and steel pipes.

He ducked to the side and waited for the inevitable. He heard a 'clack' as a grenade, its pin removed, rolled into the room, bouncing off the ruins of the blast door. Without thinking, Sergeant Nair bounded out and threw it just as it exploded in a flash, the ball bearings shredding his hand and leaving a stump.

Anwar barely had time to tackle Nair to the floor as a final grenade tumbled through the air, rolling end over end as it finally landed and the shouts of the Zero's calling for their compatriots to fall back reached his ears. Lieutenant Lian yelled in panic as he picked up the grenade and threw it into a corner of the room. Unknown to any of them was the fact that it was a nuclear grenade.

Stressed Techium in this miniature thermonuclear device's casing dampened blast products, keeping the chain reaction within a tightly contained area. A custom isotope core ensured radiation levels dropped to within tolerance levels moments after the explosion.

In a burst of light that blinded them and bit an enormous chunk out of the foundation pillar, Anwar's last vision was that of the walls collapsing down on top of them even as Ren fell, pierced through the torso by several hypervelocity spikes that hammered home into the sconcrete behind him, impaling him to the wall. He tried to scream in pain only for blood to escape in a froth, his lungs punctured by the spikes.

Then the entire building shook as the lighting failed and the world was reduced to inky blackness.

**WWW**

Schneizel strode into the command centre, his stride closely matched by his subalterns and adjutants as they multi-tasked between throwing on their uniforms, drinking coffee and attending to the constant flow of messages addressed to Schneizel.

Schneizel glanced to the left as he saw the Defence Minister, Ferdinand Brokehill, eyes rimmed red and bloodshot nodding off even as he read the screen at his terminal. Due to time zone differences it was early morning for them but late afternoon in Tokyo.

On a holographic display red dots marked multiple points across Asia where the attacks had struck. North and South America were mostly free except for red points on the Western Seaboard that marked the now non-existent ports of San Diego and San Francisco.

Britannia had 20 CBGs (Carried Battle Groups) in total along with several naval flotillas, its naval tonnage the greatest amongst the world powers. Of these 20, 8 were in reserve at any one time while the others were deployed to the South Atlantic and the Pacific where they operated from bases in the Philippines and Hawaii.

The reserves had ceased to exist as of 0230 GMT (Greenwich Mean Time), as had their personnel, the bases supporting them and the cities around them, the FLEIJA warhead stockpiled there detonating in rapid sequence. Of the 12 active CBG's, 6 were gone, the reactors within the carriers gone critical, resulting in explosions that had decimated their escort groups.

Similarly reports came in that the four aircraft carriers of the United Kingdom and the two belonging to France had been destroyed by nuclear cruise missiles fired from German submarines which had consequently self-destructed.

Chinese Federation aircraft carriers had similarly been subjected to a sudden bombardment by their own forces that had destroyed a full quarter of China's naval capability while the Indians themselves had suffered attacks on their nuclear stockpiles from within. At the present moment more than half the Indian submarine fleet had been destroyed while only four of their twelve CBGs remained in existence.

At the same time Durban and Cape Town had ceased to exist, a result of FLEIJA warheads detonated in their city centres. The only place seemingly free from attack was Europe. But even as his mind attempted to grapple with the immensity of the attacks, reports of a group called De Dios streaming into the conference centre distracted him.

"Ferdinand, organise a war room. Immediately. Prepare a media briefing. Ensure that the cyber warfare departments on standby. And deploy aerial cover to aid the Black Knights from the Conquistador."

Ferdinand tried to grapple with his orders before zooming in on the last part. "Prince Schneizel, milord, I....Empress Nunnally strictly stated that no Britannian military forces were to be deployed within Japan itself. It was hard enough having our intelligence people there. Lord Zero -"

"Who is the Chancellor? Do it. Forget about the orders Zero or Nunnally gave. They aren't here. I am. I'll deal with them when they return safe and sound" Schneizel said, his own worry for Hera rising within before he suppressed it. He couldn't let concern for his wife taint his judgement. He owed it to his people. One life for the many. He'd been willing to sacrifice Cornelia and Nunnally before falling under the power of Geass. He could sacrifice his wife as well. She'd understand. More than anybody else she understood his vision, the dream that drove him. The dream she shared with him.

He picked up the phone and called Llyod Asplund, his mind already racing with options he evaluated and discarded. Now was the right time. The Indians and Chinese had their psychics and robots, the Taipei Axis had their personal armour systems and nanotechnology projects. He had Camelot Section Zero.

He heard the scratchy voice of Lloyd Asplund as he answered up the phone. A brilliant man whose intellectual capacity was rivalled by Cecile Croomy and Nina Einstein, his greatest failing was perhaps in human relationships. But that made him a lonely man. And lonely men when gifted with a few choice companions could be easily manipulated as Schneizel had managed to do.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gino Weinberg stride into the room. A man known for his honesty and sincerity, he was also renowned for his more...esoteric or rather erotic abilities with women. He was a natural charmer, friendly and easygoing, having been through a succession of girlfriends and lovers that had ultimately ended with him marrying Cecile Croomy. He was a lover of women whose days of flirtation had ended with him married to a woman seven years his senior. A capable man to be trusted.

"Lloyd. Are _they_ ready?" Schneizel asked. A special project even his own father had been unaware of, Schneizel had spent the better part of his adolescence pursuing the research in conjunction with researchers he'd poached from Amshel's biological research company.

Cunningly hidden in the depths of Alaska, his own cadre of super-soldiers stood ready, a culmination of two decades of research using information gained from Amshel's own data networks. Now was the perfect opportunity to test them. The Gaheris Templars.

But then the entire command centre paused as Lelouch's face appeared on the screen.

**WWW**

Altair Sahar, Prime Minister of the Indian Commonwealth and half-brother to the Shah Emperor felt the light of hundreds of thousands and then millions of minds slowly extinguish before he withdrew. His brother was pushing himself to his limits. He recoiled with the force of the shock as the _thing_ they'd broken snapped at them, an astral _presence _that dissipated into the void of non-existence.

With a groan he fell to his knees, blood streaming from his ears, eyes, nose and mouth, blood vessels bursting. He barely held on as he felt several of the Kshatriya intervene, preventing his cerebral arteries from bursting and clotting his brain.

"Altair, what happened?" his wife asked from the side where she waited with their retinue of secretarial staff and bodyguards. Kyoko Sumeragi, she was Kaguya's cousin as well as related to the infamous traitor, Suzaku Kururugi. Altair fixed her with bloodshot eyes, capillaries leaking blood into their soft tissues.

"Kyoko. Get out of here. Head to Colombo. Srinagar is destroyed. It's a wasteland. The Khyber Pass DIVCOM at Landi Kotal is reporting several seismic disturbances along the entire range of the Safed Koh. Our nuclear silos. I'll join you later" he said hoarsely, struggling to stand up, gesturing for his bodyguards to stay away as they closed to help him. The pain was good. It kept him conscious and allowed him to focus.

Kyoko nodded. She understood the necessity of his commands. With them secured in a safe location with forces loyal to him and his brother he didn't have to worry about an attack from within. The Kshatriya's surrounding her began to move, picking up the suitcases and luggage that contained their clothes and essential documents. Kyoko checked her pistol before holstering it. A full charge on the electromagnetic barrel with 3 extra clips.

He glanced at her bionic arm, the scar tissue of her shoulder intersecting near-seamlessly with the plasteel-diamasteel composite arm. She'd lost it protecting their infant son from a bomb. Like the children of the pregnant Sophia yu Britannia and his brother, they remained in the lines of succession to the Indian Raj.

Threats from within and threats from without. He'd reached out to his brother and barely held the powerful shadow back at the same time as several of his own rogue cousins had launched an immense psychic assault upon him. Something this coordinated spoke of a vast conspiracy. Similarly, a psychic assault that powerful meant something insidiously powerful. Only the En Sabah Nur could have ever managed something on that scale and even then....

"Imran. Malik. Take your squadrons and deploy to Landi Kotal. Take command of DIVCOM and report back to me. Marcus, send a message to Musharraf up in Kabul to mobilise the reserves and for Xingke' Black Guard in Shanghai to prepare for the arrival of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th Divisions. We're deploying to Japan. Mobilise the reserves across the Commonwealth and place them on standby. All ICSMF (Indian Commonwealth Strategic Military Forces) and Black Knights are under my command as of now under the UFN CMC (Central Military Commission) Protocols."

With no small amount of will he got up and forced himself to move, marching towards the hangar where his Guren SEITEN waited for him. He silently reached out for his Kyoko, seeking the intimate bond between them.

"_Kyoko. Once you reach Colombo get out of the country and head to Dubai. From there make your way to Oslo. I've got contacts there. Seek out Rania Sabri. My men will handle it. Take ten of my Kshatriya with you. I..."_

"_You love me. I know. Now go. I'll protect the children. You stay safe. Your cousins will protect me. We're Sahar after all. Besides, Sumeragi Concern has a penthouse there I can use. Never thought my family ties would actually come in useful."_

Altair kept on moving forward as he focused on the mission at hand. His family was...would be safe. His friends and extended family would take care of them. Now he could deal with whatever was happening. But before everything else he turned to address one of his adjutants. "Jayse-open the hotline to Britannian Imperial Command now. Get me Schneizel at once. And open a line to Alamgir right away."

**WWW**

In an unmarked cargo vessel Nunnally felt the shockwave out at sea as the overpressure wave slammed into the freighter. In the distance the Ikaruga, the flagship and command carrier of the Black Knights, took the full brunt of the wave as it dipped, its gravitational float system struggling for control as polarity was shifted and waves of gravity directed away and downwards, generated manipulated by the immense forces exerted by the hundreds of gyroscopes in its engine systems as they twisted the Earth's magnetic pull.

The sakuradite-g, the isotope responsible for the viability of the flight system through its unique generation of gravitational force upon reaction burned away, the fuel rods nearly overheating as the engines drew more power from their sakuradite reactors.

Superheated columns of air screamed from the jets as they fought to right the entire Ikaruga, nuclear fusion-powered jets in combination with hydrocarbon-fueled turbojets screaming in unison as the entire superstructure of the Ikaruga and the ships surrounding it fought the powerful hurricane-force winds.

She stumbled but was stopped from falling by Hera taking her hand. Around them stood Miguel's guards, suited up and ready for action. They were supposed to leave Japanese waters in an unmarked freighter and link up with the battleship HMS _Geleris. _Aboard were several Vincents, custom fitted with stealth films and other camouflage technologies newly out of Camelot.

Miguel was unkempt, sweat pouring down his neck as he read and reread the constant stream of data flowing out of Tokyo. Apparently the sakuradite mines had been set off in a spectacular fashion that decimated most of Tokyo and levelled Mount Fuji which was now a crater in the ground.

Conservative estimates placed the number of dead at the lower bound of 15 million, five million more than the Second Battle of Tokyo when the FLEIJA warhead was first used. Zero, Kyoshiro, Xingke, Fhajad and several others of the senior leadership had been trapped in Tokyo, unable to escape Chiba due to the riots and sudden mutinies of their crews.

A sudden stir as he arose and the shuffling of his staff gained her attention as he ducked down beside her, whispering into her ear. "Empress Nunnally. Durban and Cape Town were struck by FLEIJA warheads. They're gone. Casualties are listed in excess of forty million conservatively. Cairo, Jerusalem, Mecca and Medina are no more. Apparently destroyed by some secret Japanese weapon. No one can say for sure. No survivors known. And...." he hesitated before proceeding.

"Apparently an imposter of Lelouche who bears a striking resemblance has been seen at various points directing the attack. These are from credible sources I'd vouch my life on. But -" before he was interrupted by a sudden clack as pistols were suddenly levelled at him.

Several of his bodyguards had their pistols pointed at him and the others, Carlos and his own men aiming theirs back, unsure of what to do. Taken utterly by surprise, they remained stock still, unsure how to react before an individual in a Zero mask came out of the shadows, lifting the mask of his face to reveal the face that so many present knew.

The purple-blue eyes. That aristocratic gaze. The aquiline nose that carved its way onto a face with lips that spoke of a hidden sensuality and danger. The desire of many women and even some men with the thick, unruly hair that framed his regal face. The 99th Emperor of the Holy Empire Britania. The orchestrator of the Zero Requiem. Lelouch vi Britannia II, son of Emperor Charles XIII and Empress Marianne Lamperouge. The Tyrant Emperor of Britannia.

"Amazing what one can do. You were always a hard man to kill Miguel. I remember how you managed to hide away and escape my purges. Always a step ahead of me. And ever so humble about it" Lelouche spoke before fixing his gaze upon Nunnally.

She trembled as he approached, as he lifted her chin up with his fingers. "Hello little sister. I gave you everything. I died for you." His face took on a dangerous smirk as his eyes blazed with vengeance and anger.

"_I gave the world for you and look what you did with it. You squandered the strength of my legacy. You negotiated with the filth that was the aristocracy and restored them partially. The Zero Requiem I created has its foundations all but undermind by you. You didn't even realise Schneizel no longer is under the power of my Geass. Poor, pathetic, weak little Nunnally"_ the voice echoed in their minds.

"Lulu...you're dead. No. I..." Nunnally stuttered, unable to speak or even voice the flood of emotions that came to her. She reached up to him, her fingers shivering before Lelouch stepped back. His eyes began to glow, the birdlike sigil forming as he stared at her, as the men whom he'd Geassed into submission raised them in unison.

"I Lelouch vi Britannia command you to kill -" before his voice caught in his throat as he choked. Miguel ramming a knife hand into it before several of his Geassed bodyguards attacked him. Flinging them off him Miguel tackled Nunnally while Carlos reacted instantly, throwing Hera over his shoulder as the bodyguards threw themselves at them.

Miguel desperately lashed out with his own psi, finally unleashing himself as he felt the conflict in the wills of all present. He screwed his eyes down before collapsing with a scream of pain as something ripped away at him, assaulting him with visions of nightmares that threatened to overpower him. Another enemy present. Not just Lelouch here. Not just this. _Something else_.

**WWW**

_Euphemia in a coffin. His greatest failure. Her accusing stare as she looked at him, glassy eyes forever fixed in that empty gaze that would never show warmth or comfort or love ever again. The girl he'd loved like a daughter, only to see her fall. The girl whose name was forever tarnished by her acts under her Geass. Cornelia'a dead eyes. The scent of rotten meat as her corpse decayed in front of him. They voices began to speak._

"_WHY? You said you'd protect me Miggy" whined Euphemia as she rose from her coffin, blood seeping from her wounds. Her heart bled through, staining the ground red with her blood. Images of her as he'd played with her in the gardens. Visions of her as he silently sat in a corner of her bedroom, waiting for her to go to sleep as 'Uncle Miggy' scared away the bogeyman._

_Cornelia's face writhed and melted, the flesh liquefying as it gave way to writhing maggots and bleached bone. "I could have died in the sands of Arabia. You abandoned me. You -"_

Miguel roared and kept on running, staggering forward as he flung Nunnally through the door, vaguely noticing that the crystal Hera kept around her neck was glowing faintly. Gunfire echoed further down the corridor as Carlos struggled to keep a hatch leading from the chamber closed. Miguel rammed his shoulder into it, slamming it closed on the groping fingers that attempted to keep it open.

"CARLOS! Take them and get away. Escape with the Empress and Hera. I'll delay them. I'll buy you time. Now GO!" Miguel yelled. Carlos obeyed without hesitation, grabbing both Nunnally and Hera by the hand as he raced down the corridor.

Miguel tried to tap into his psi once more before the blanket of pain descended upon him, forcing him to his knees. The hatch popped open and his Geassed men poured through, their pistols aimed down the corridor. Miguel flung himself into the group and lashed out, elbows and knees striking bone and tearing flesh before he forced them back and closed the hatch, sealing it shut.

Adrenaline rushing through his body, he turned and raced down the corridor even as the hatch gave way at the hinges, the weight of the men behind it forcing it open by brute force. All the while, blood streamed from the bullet wounds that had slowly begun to close up. On his left hand the Code's mark began to glow.

As he reached the halfway point up the corridor the hatch was blasted open, the explosions sending a gust of air whipping past him as the sound rolled through the narrow confines of the ship. Suddenly Miguel fell to the ground as several steel rebars pierced his body, impaling him to the floor and spinning his body so that he landed on his back.

He heard a clang of boots as his Geassed men rushed to his location. They surrounded his immobile form, their faces passive and staring. Familiar faces who'd served him for years. His staff. They made a path as Lelouch strode through the crowd.

"You're a tough bastard. And a fast one at that Miguel. I'll give you that" Lelouch said as he panted, recovering his breath. "But now its time to die. Any last words? I'd rather have had you as my ally but there's no way I can have you as an enemy. You're simply too dangerous. Any last words?"

Miguel spat out blood as he spoke, smiling smugly at the man as blood frothed from his mouth. "You're nothing but a clone. An imperfect copy of the original whom you'll never match up to. Simply someone's toy. That's all you'll ever be. A disposable tool that'll be thrown away once they have no use for you."

Lelouch shook his head. "That wouldn't happen. De Dios will always need me. I'm Lelouch after all. The magnificent bastard who faked his own death and started the Zero Requiem. I cloned a new body around my brain with the help of Amshel Goldsmith. Time to join your ancestors old man. To think that people think I'm just a pathetic clone....."

"Amshel?" whispered Miguel, just before his heart exploded as Lelouch fired several rounds into his chest and head.

**WWW**

Hera marvelled at the success of her plans. All her aims would be achieved without so much as a drop of sweat on her part. With so many factions willing to cooperate she'd been more than willing to work from behind the scenes. She'd simply facilitated them, especially De Dios. She'd done very little work aside from releasing the few clones who hadn't been corrupted by the taint that En Sabah Nur had planted in the cloning system and indoctrinating them.

Naturally she'd psi-programmed the clones using the power of Tlaloc's Legacy, the part of En Sabah Nur's power that had been crafted and stored in a single crystal. She'd yet to tap its full potential but already she'd achieved so much with it. The current Lelouch clone was the only surviving one. Fitted with a powerful Geass, this one was special. Twisted in subtle ways, he thought himself the original. An easy enough deception to perform with the power at her disposal.

Nunnally sat beside her in the cramped confines of the Vincent. Unresponsive, she catatonically stared straight ahead. Carlos piloted the Vincent, setting course for the nearby Britannian battleship three hours away. Carlos stared straight ahead, keeping his emotions masked beneath the grim expression of his face. The man whom he'd served under for close to two decades was dead.

Numbness and shock was all he could feel. Right now he let his logic take control, projecting the consequences of the events around him as he accelerated the Vincent. He turned back to look at Hera, herself calm and collected despite the chaos around her.

"Lady Hera. Where do we go from here?" he asked, unsure of what to do himself as his thoughts roiled in turmoil.

Hera simply gave a half-smile. "What Britannia should have done long ago. We prepare to go to war."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.**_

**A/N**: Guys, this is an exposition chapter. Meaning- lots and lots and _lots_ of exposition. Action is not this chapter's main point. So I apologise if you become bored. Writer's block struck me at the same time as several things in my life went haywire and this chapter underwent several rewrites before my beta even saw it. Even after I rewrote it it still didn't meet my expectations.

But here is the end result. I hold my benchmarks to be Charles Bhephin, Academia Nut, Adrian Tullberg, Amber Myst, B-Corvus Corvidae-M and Pat Squared in terms of quality. Obviously I'm not at their levels yet but I work at it when I can, in between all the stuff real life has. Check out their stories and you'll understand why I use them as benchmarks.

This was originally a lot longer but I pared it down even before I sent it to my beta. There is _a lot _of background information and I'll cover that in the other chapters which are more action and plot-oriented but right now you'll have to suffer through this like I did. :)

* * *

_Schneizel el Britannia or Sigismund III, High Conquistador of California and the 101__st__ Emperor of Britannia as well as its last. Fhajad Sorentho Sahar, Shah-Emperor of the Indian Commonwealth. The first and last Shah-Emperor. Altair Sahar his half-brother, the Morning Star, the brightest light in the heavens and the foulest devil of the deepest infernal hell. The orchestrators of the Rafzakael Requiem. May their names be damned in the history forever for the dream of peace they made reality....and for the cost so many paid in blood...and may their souls be pitied....for I would have committed the very same acts as them had I known then what I know now._

_**-Viceroy of Japan, Karen Stadtfeld-Kozuki (Kozuki Kallen/Kallen Kozuki/Karen Kozuki attb. Different sources), Red Queen of Rafzakael, first Chairwoman of the Central Military Commission of the Federated Commonwealth of Earth**_

"_Schneizel. It was him. He had the vision and strength to drive Britannia to victory and the wisdom to rule once peace was won. For all his aloof coolness, he alone has an emperor's soul in his blood. Each of us carries parts of our parents within us, whether it is a hunger for battle, a talent for war, a calculating intellect or a determination to succeed. Schneizel held all of Charles vi Britannias ruthless cunning and all of Adela Gibraltar's brilliant intelligence, all of this honed to a deadly edge from young under the tutelage of Miguel de Silva, Master of Assassins and High Lord of Britannia, answerable only to the Emperor himself. It should have been Schneizels throne from the beginning .... and may his soul rot in hell forever for what he cost me and my loved ones" _

_**-Nunnally vi Britannia, the Nightmare Baroness, 100**__**th**__** Empress of Britannia (deposed by Schneizel el Britannia the White Hawk Emperor), restored as Empress Nunnally Bellatrix Lamperouge of the Britannia Dynasty**_

_.. What did these men have in common? They were more moral than they thought they were. That's a start. But they acts they committed were.....they were men. More than men. More than ogres. Less then saints. The acts they committed were more immoral than they could ever imagine. And what's worse is that they __had_ _to do it. They __needed__ to do it. There was not a single person close to them who saw the toll it took on them. I looked up to Altair and Fhajad. My emperor. My patriarch. The Rafzakael Requiem destroyed them. And me who was complicit in the requiem? I was just a man, doing what I thought __needed__ to be done. God, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Jehovah or whoever the hell it is will probably cast me into the deepest hell me if what the religions say is true. But hell, I'd rather fight the war in Hell than enjoy the peace of Heaven. For the glory of war. Heh. We were stupid young boys. Now I'm a stupid old man. Let the young ones have their future. A world without men like me or Lelouch, men who kill children and helpless innocents....now that is a paradise._

_**-Director (ret) Khalid ibn al-Asad, Chief of the ISI (Inter Service Intelligence). Private memoirs.**_

* * *

A day after the Tokyo Decimation, the colossal stratospheric fortress _Kurukshetra_ hovered above the ruins of Tokyo, a pall of grey smoke hanging over the ruined city as fires burned throughout the ruined megalopolis, twisted skeletons of buildings melting in the flames as ribbons and beams of steel melted in the inferno. Volcanic ash saturated the atmosphere for more than a thousand kilometres in every direction, a shroud visible from orbit that enveloped vast tracts of East Asia and stretched south to even the landmass of Australia. The lava flows from the open caldera that had once been Mount Fuji had been redirected by combat engineering teams working around the clock. They now flowed into Tokyo Bay, hardening and expanding to solid rock as it cooled.

Barographs had registered the pressure waves from the explosion worldwide while for the first time in recorded history an earthquake with a magnitude of 10 on the Richter scale had been recorded. The explosion generated by the detonation of the sakuradite mines beneath Mount Fuji had been heard as far away as Hawaii, the sound waves travelling across the Pacific to reverberate half a world away. The only comparable incident was Krakatoa.

The Tokyo Decimation as it had been termed by both the world media and the government was the single largest disaster the world had ever encountered. Several carefully timed bombs had been detonated in the sakuradite mines beneath Mount Fuji and around Tokyo itself, resulting in makeshift FLEIJA warheads that had fractured the earth into lines of weakness that ran the length of several kilometres beneath Tokyo.

Tokyo Bay now extended in tendrils into the island, large chunks of the city submerging beneath the waves as they slipped into the sea, the ground fractured by the explosions that had shattered the shell of the thriving metropolis. More than three quarters of the population of Tokyo was either dead or dying, the survivors suffering from inhalation of the volcanic ash and chemicals that saturated the air. Rescue teams slowly made inroads while the few surviving elements of the Tokyo municipal government tried to coordinate what resources they could.

The harbourage outside Tokyo Bay filled with a vast flotilla of both military and civilian ships, all anchored there to deal with the growing humanitarian crisis that had engulfed the entirety of the Taiheiyo Belt megalopolis. Aircraft soared overhead in spiralling turns while helicarriers and floatships hovered silently, all in a vast cloud that surrounded the colossus which cast its ominous shadow over the ruins.

**WWW**

Altair surveyed the ruined city from the command deck of the Kurukshetra, the response of the Sahar Dynasty to Damocles. After the revelation of Damocles the Sahar had covertly built up their own fortress platform in their mountain fastnesses of the Geo-Fronts, self-sustaining subterranean cities carved into the mountain rock.

Biding their time and patiently waiting, they'd kept themselves hidden and isolated, watching the Demon Emperor's actions from afar. Their enormous wealth that numbered in the tens of trillions of dollars and psi powers along with the warrior elite of the Kshatriya Corps had shielded them from intervention or discovery by the great powers. Wealth was little limitation of the Sahar Dynasty..

Miguel de Silva had done his part through covert agreements that bound the Diamond Lotus and Sahar in a loose alliance that was now further boosted by the actions of Alamgir Netanyahu and Fhajad Sahar. It was in their mutual interests that they remain shielded and anonymous in the world. The existence of Geass was a public secret that remained largely unconfirmed by the governments of the world. The existence of an entire race of psychic humans and a collective of immortals was the last thing the general population needed to know. Conspiracy theories about Illuminati were the last things the Sahar Dynasty or the Diamond Lotus needed or wanted. Wielders of psi powers had an avowed desire to avoid being dissected.

Surrounding them were several more fortress platforms similar in size to Damocles. The Kurukshetra dwarfed all of them, itself more than twelve times the size of Damocles and outfitted with an arsenal that most could only speculate at. Even the Zero Requiem had failed to take into account that human nature _remained human nature_.

In a relative universe where abounded many powerful entities of one sort or another be they countries, organisations or people, a power vacuum had to be filled. A response had to be found. And so in secret Kurukshetra and the Qogir-class stratospheric fortresses of the Sahar had been produced in the remote fastness of the mountain plateaus of the Himalayas.

It had been a point of contention amongst the Black Knights and in a spirit of goodwill they'd been granted to the Black Knights by Fhajad as an act of good faith. An act that had earned his own rise to power in the authority of the Black Knights to the ranks of Secretary of Defense. Now events had fallen into place such that they were once more under the control of Altair Sahar, the current Acting CEO of the Black Knights maneuvering to have them under his personal control once more.

**WWW**

Karen stared listlessly at her Knightmare Frame. Twisted and battered armour peeled away, exposing several layers of armour plate that was charred and twisted, ripped away in strips from the various kinetic impacts and other battle scarring it had incurred in the aftermath of the sakuradite explosions that had rained debris and ash down on Tokyo.

Dhamsig's own Indra was in no better shape, liquid nanocrystal bleeding from it. While constructed of more advanced monocrystalline and polycrystalline titanium alloys it had a solid layer of beta carbon nitride and other ceramic carbide armour layers that reinforced it, granting it survivability and durability comparable to Karen's own.

Technicians and mechanics clambered up and down the scaffolding that enclosed the Guren Toukijin. The nanowelders and plasma cutters flared as they went to work, surgically cutting through layers of circuitry and replacing them with new wafers and filaments of silicon, plastics, optical fibres and countless other pasts, removing electromotive fibre cables and installing new lengths of reinforced diamond weave.

Karen's arm was in a cast, the humerus of her right arm fractured at the middle, compounded by five broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder along with a broken metacarpal. A moderate concussion rounded out her array of injuries. The symptoms were all there; irritability, dizziness, fatigue, memory and attention problems, difficulty sleeping. Etcetera.

Karen glanced around the large hangar of the stratospheric fortress they were in, filled with the hustle and bustle of hundreds of work crews as they attended to the task of salvaging the hundreds of K-Frames and other vehicular frames that littered it. The Kurukshetra, stratospheric fortress and command nexus of the Indian Commonwealth, currently the acting command centre for the Black Knight CENTCOM (Central Command). She watched as dozens of Indra's, Shen Hu's, Harimau's, Gekka's, Zangetsu's and Vincents crowded the chamber, many of them bearing the markings of the Colombo Division or the Kshatriya Corps of the Imperial Sahar.

Rakshata walked up to Karen, hands on her hips as she adopted a stern lecturing tone. "Karen...what the hell did you do to my Guren? Shields that could match a Shinkiro. Armour that could withstand everything short of a point blank shot from a Mordred's Stark Hadron Cannon and even then resist that for a good minute. A neural interface the match of a Sutherland Sieg with a supercomputer and host AI to boot. My god.....just look at it now.....". Rakshata trailed off. Rakshata chose not to mention that it was a test type whose worth alone was at least a hundred and thirty billion euros.

Karen looked at her Guren and back at Rakshata. The once elegant machine, godlike in its capability, divine in its possession of firepower and superb in its maneuverability stood stripped bare before her. But the fact that it was functional at all and she alive was a miracle in itself.

Karen's Guren Toukijin had been blasted through at least 20 skyscrapers in the initial shockwave. She'd stopped counting after the impacts had knocked her unconscious. Analysis by technicians had revealed that her Guren had been subjected to conditions of temperatures and pressure that were the equivalent of a 15 kiloton nuclear warhead exploding on top of her. That she'd survived and been functional at all was only due to Rakshata's engineering and design and Dhamsig's own psychic prowess. The shields had taken the worst of it and were now non-functional, their circuits burnt out. Dhamsig was no better, his psychic abilities neutered.

The prototype Lambda Driver or "non-Newtonian false-axis repulsive field generator" along with the experimental Zero Point Energy Field Barrier she'd installed in Dhamsig's Indra combined with his own telekinetic shields and the overlapping Blaze Luminous shields had allowed both of them to survive the prolonged blasts, along with their 'lucky' burial beneath several thousand tons of steel-reinforced concrete that had shielded them both.

An unwieldy lump of black metal alloys and plastics was towed into the chamber, a thunderbolt symbol with a raging demon scrawled on the side, the stencilled name burnt away. Rakshata followed her gaze with a curious look before shrugging.

"That's a new model. A Ganishka. A variant of the Iruel chassis which is based on the Israeli Vashiel. Insanely tough. Nowhere near as advanced as my Guren. I helped to engineer the systems for it though. Only the Kshatriya use it. Unwieldy. Not elegant at all. A machine of pure brute force. My GT and Indras' are far more capable than that piece of scrap. Still...one must admire it in a way. I designed it in part after all. Structurally tougher than a GT but with your shields you don't need to worry. But I doubt you even had time to read the manual or familiarise yourself with the new model did you?" Rakshata asked with an eyebrow cocked.

Karen shook her head. She'd barely even had time in the past few weeks to really understand the capabilities and limitations of her new model. Her head slowly drooped before she forced it to rise again, staring through bleary bloodshot eyes at Rakshata whose brow was suddenly creased by lines of concern.

"Karen. How long have you been out of bed?" she asked slowly, tilting Karen's chin up. Karen smiled wearily. "3 hours roughly...I think. They need me out there. As soon as my Guren's fixed up I'll just leave. Got to get out and help...." she finished as she leaned her head back against the steel bulkhead and instantly fell asleep.

Rakshata shook her head. Currently on a cocktail of mild sedatives and antibiotics along with anti-nausea medication, Karen was in no condition with all her broken bones to even go near the cockpit of a Knightmare. Her current state proved her assumption to a tee. Taking her arm and draping it over her shoulder, she signalled to one of the Kshatriya present to help transport Karen to Rakshata's own quarters. In the back of her mind she was glad that she hadn't mentioned how expensive the prototype Guren Tokijin was – roughly 800 billion euros in total. The amount of paperwork that was in store for her was hellish. Not to mention the reaction of her husband to her reasoning for sending it to Karen in the first place.

In the back of her mind, she thanked the unknown doctor for increasing the dosage of Karen's sedatives. Given how the Demon Emperor had appeared on the scene once more, Karen would need all her strength to confront the vagaries of the coming conflict. And she would be a centrepiece in it if Altair had anything to do with it.

**WWW**

"Maharaj, the reports are in. It is confirmed. Senior Warrant Zaki Kim of the 1st Singapore Guards/1st Guards Ultra is dead. Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra is currently on life support in critical condition. The doctors do not expect him to make it. He's suffered third-degree burns and extensive nerve damage across 80 percent of his body. His spine is severed at eight separate points, all 26 vertebrae in varying states of breakage while his tibia, fibula and femur are fractured in both legs with contusions on both kidneys and liver haemorrhaging. Compound fractures in his ribs resulted in punctured lungs working at ~10 percent. His situation......we are making him comfortable."

Altair acknowledged the news with a nod and sat down on the chair, concealing his weariness and grief. The aide left the room quietly, leaving his Maharaj alone with his thoughts. Zaki had been a close friend of his, one of the few he could trust with his life. In a family like the Sahar Dynasty, if your relatives and cousins weren't trying to politically exploit you in a race to get to the position of Grand Patriarch of the dynasty or jockeying for favours, then they were trying to assassinate you.

Zaki and Anwar had been trusted associates, family friends whom he'd known for decades. The only people within the Sahar Dynasty you could truly trust were your own siblings and even then....well, he and Fhajad were the exception to the rule.

Not since the pogroms within the Sahar Dynasty enacted by his father when he was a child had he ever felt so overwhelmed by the burden of responsibility, of being the Grand Patriarch of the quarrelling houses. The legacy of his mother Ashima Sahar, herself the Grand Matriach of the Sahar Dynasty before him weighed down on his shoulders. The mother he'd assassinated with his own mind.

Fhajad was indisposed while the leadership of the Black Knights had been annihilated for lack of a better word. Tohdoh was in critical condition with a ruptured spleen and damaged liver, Xingke had suffered a broken back and Kaguya Sumeragi had been mind-wiped, left a drooling vegetable by an unknown telepath. All of this orchestrated by a coaltion of terrorists and Kyoto purists that no one had ever heard of or even expected to be able to pull this off, lead by a resurrected Lelouch who'd now renamed himself Tuathal.

The material losses inflicted by the attack could be replaced easily enough but not the personnel. Morale amongst the elite units of the Black Knights – the Kshatriya Corps, the Guards Ultras and the Snow Wolf Commandoes – was at an all time low with several senior command staff dead or MIA. For the Guards Formation of the Singapore Armed Forces, itself a component of the RFAMC (Riau Federation Amalgamated Military Coalition), they'd lost several of their best soldiers and two legendary figures in a single blow.

Kaname Ohgi, Secretary-General of the Black Knights and Prime Minister of Japan was in a coma brought about by severe trauma to his head and faced the possibility of never recovering. His own bodyguards had turned out to be Kyoto Purists and had shot him in the head but failed to kill him. His wife and son were safe onboard the Kurukshetra, currently in the quarters of his second wife, Imperial Consort Rakshata Chawla.

All of their Division Commanders, each and every one of them High Generals, lay dead either by suicide or by assassination. Generals Frederick Szymanowski, Indira Tharoor, Ahmad Khayrallah and Nguyen Van Nguu, Hong Gu and Sugiyama Kento had been systematically eliminated during the chaos of the Tokyo Decimation by Kyoto Purists, apparently in alliance with De Dios.

Zaki Kim and Anwar Ramachandra were men who inspired loyalty and respect in those that followed them. The former was dead by apparent suicide while the other was on the verge of death from somehow miraculously surviving a nuclear grenade that had disintegrated the rest of the people present.

The entire affair left Altair Sahar directly in command of every military asset of the Black Knights. With the news of Xingke's coma, subversive elements in the Chinese Federation had quickly taken the opportunity to launch a stealth coup. Several Chinese units of the Black Knights had defected over to the usurpers, all of whom had coincidentally been extremely powerful men under the reign of the High Eunuchs. Which left the Indian Commonwealth and the UFN itself in an extremely fragile situation.

Within Japan several former members of the Kyoto Houses had formed the Kyoto Purification Alliance, seeking to purify Japan and restore it to its former glory. In India, several rogue members of the Sahar Dynasty had colluded with De Dios and other rebel groups to engage in a terrorist rampage that focused on attacking the Jewish and Muslim communities, stirring up violent religious fervour in the multicultural milieu of India.

In short Altair was facing a threat that had managed to hide from several established intelligence agencies, three of them considered elite in nature and used as the benchmark for all others; namely the Riau Federation Special Branch, the Inter Service Intelligence of the Indian Commonwealth and the Black Knight Military Security Directorate. And all of it coincided with the 'resurrection' of Lelouch vi Britannia, now calling himself Tuathal vi Britannia the First. And the end result had been the three major powers of the Black Knights destabilised.

**WWW**

Chancellor Schneizel and Defence Minister Ferdinand Marcos gave inward groans as their analysts briefed them, summarising the thousands of pages of information and data that had been compiled and collated over the past few days. In a single stroke the Indian Commonwealth had been caught in a diplomatic quagmire, their European and Asian allies both demanding their attention even as their domestic territories were ravaged by civil unrest.

Britannian territories had been attacked and destroyed, least of which had been the destruction of San Francisco and San Diego. The Subic Bay naval base's capacity had been overwhelmed by the remnants of the heavily damaged CBG's (Carrier Battle Groups) that had survived and were now being frantically overhauled in preparation for whatever was to come next. Durban and Cape Town in South Africa, both major centres of industry and commerce, had been wiped off the map by FLEIJA warheads.

But far worse was the issue of Tokyo. The world supply of sakuradite had been disrupted to a degree not seen since the Second Pacific War, when Britannia had invacded and occupied Japan 15 years ago. Many major countries had switched to using available industrial stockpiles and were prepared to tap their strategic reserves while prices of sakuradite skyrocketed. Tokyo, the largest exporter of sakuradite, was now the centre of a major humanitarian crisis. Just three days and the world was in chaos.

Tensions had arisen as well after the sinking of several large freighters in the congested MalaC.C.a Straits just in between the Riau Federation terrirory of Malaya and the Indian possession of Sumatra. The MalaC.C.a Straits were a critical chokepoint whose waters were patrolled by the Indian Commonwealth from its bases in Sumatra, the Malayan Confederacy and the Riau Federation. At its narrowest point it was 5 km (3.125 miles) across. More than three quarters of European sakuradite supplies were transported through the Malacca Straits as well as more than half of the Indian Commonwealth's own sakuradite supplies.

The sinking of the freighters had rendered the straits unnavigable, leaving only the Northeast Passage that skirted the Russian Arctic territories and the Sunda Straits, a pirate-infested cesspool renowned as the most lawless region of the vast Indonesian archipelago. In a single stroke the sakuradite supply to several major world powers had been disrupted severely, stock markets crashing with a massive humanitarian crisis across multiple regions at once.

Britannian satellites had also detected a massive mobilisation amongst the military and paramilitary reserves of the Indian Commonwealth and the Black Knights the minute Altair had taken command. With more than a third of their navy destroyed in its entirety and critical infrastructure non-existent, both India and Britannia along with the European Union and the Black Knights as a whole teetered on the edge of a war. Except there was no clear-cut enemy in this entire mess!

What made it even worse was that India was involved in a web of diplomatic and military alliances that would absorb all its attention. Their European alliances via NATO were required as India served to balance the power of Germany and France within Europe while serving as a countermeasure to the Russian Federation's influence in Eastern Europe and Central Asia.

Similarly within the Black Knights the Indians counteracted the influence of China and Japan, acting as an arbiter and benign imperial superpower that not everyone liked but one that nobody could do without. But it all boiled down to ensuring a multipolar world where a balance of power prevented abuses by the great powers like Britannia, Japan and China. It was oft-forgotten that Japan had been invaded by Britannia with tacit approval by all the other major world powers in the first place _because _they'd _abused_ their status as themajor sakuradite supplier to disrupt the world economy.

The role of the Indian Commonwealth in both Asia, Europe and Africa was simple – to provide a benign intercessor that protected the interests of itself, its protectorates and its allies against the superpowers of the Russian Federation and Britannian Empire while balancing the internal conflict that erupted between China and Japan in the Asia-Pacific, all the while ensuring a stable supply of sakuradite and petroleum-derived hydrogen to all the major world powers.

Schneizel gulped down the ice cold water, letting it trickle down his throat before following it with a powerful slug of raw caffeine that burnt his throat and woke him up. At the back of his mind the knowledge that Miguel de Silva had died protecting Hera and Nunnally, killed by his own men while under the power of Geass, left him numb.

Miguel had been an instrumental father figure in his life, more so than even his biological father who had been more or less a sperm donor, a distant and aloof man whose ideals he coincidentally shared as well as genetics. Not much more than that. But he neither had the luxury of time nor emotion to waste. Later he would mourn but now....

"Chancellor...Lord Altair wishes to hold a conference aboard the Kurukshetra. The delegates from the EU, the NAM (Non-Aligned Movement) and Black Knights are currently gathered onboard. The Empress intends to attend the conference" an aide spoke into his ear. Schneizel nodded and waved the aide away. Rising, he left the command room of the stratospheric fortress as he strode out to atrium of that overlooked the Pacific.

The view that met him was one of awe-inspiring might as the Kurukshetra hovered on the horizon, visible even from their location on the other side of Tokyo Bay. For even as the Kurukshetra and the Qogir Fortresses had been built to counteract the might of Britannia and counterbalance the European Union, so had the platform of Damocles been rebuilt in secret once more to restore the supremacy he had once aspired for Britannia to possess.

Balance. Counterbalance. Cogs in an intangible gear that continued its slow rotation, unstoppable except by the greatest forces of humanity. Such was international politics. And such was human nature. For humans would always respond to a threat by creating a tool of equal or greater magnitude to counter that which threatened them.

**WWW**

"_**Silence!**_"

Altair's voice carried across to the assembled conference, gazing across the delegates as his basso voice flowed over all of them, the delegates of the various nations suC. to a sudden desire to obey this man. Of large stature and imposing height at 1.98 m (6'6) tall, he'd inherited his father's and mother's stature along with the leanly muscular build inherent in the paternal line, silver streaks of hair in otherwise raven-black crop that contrasted with skin the colour of bronze Honduran mahogany. A savage grace lay beneath the veneer of erudition he projected, a Fenrir wolf whose maw dripped with icicle fire as he surveyed his prey.

His steel grey eyes directed the full strength of his personality across the room, subtle use of his voice, body language and psi powers to bend them on a barely detectable subconscious level. The video of Lelouch announcing his return from the dead had been replayed. The same one that had been distributed as a viral video on the Internet.

Nunnally had the momentary look of a deer caught in the headlights before she flicked on her psi nullifier, glaring back at Altair. Her experience with Geass had left her more sensitised to the sensation of a psychic in her mind. Altair nearly laughed. It was open knowledge amongst the Sahar, the Diamond Lotus and the future in-laws of his half-brother that he was the most powerful psychic on the planet bar the secret one that the Arbitrator of the Diamond Lotus, his father, had hidden away as a wild card.

"Everyone knows this video is not a hoax. The voice records and the retinal patterns match that of Lelouch vi Britannia. The allegations that Suzaku Kururugi is Zero are neither confirmed nor known at this time. I will not comment on that and neither will access be granted to Zero. That is _final_. Given the nature – _Senator Bush_. Do you have something to add?" Altair asked, glaring at the Texan aristocrat who silenced himself in mid-speech.

The Shah-Emperor Fhajad was known as a charming, lovable rogue who was self-confident to the point of arrogance yet genuinely warm and genial, approachable to all and sundry. A genius thinker at home in the library and political debates as much as he was in combat. Matching Schneizel and providing a foil to his formal manner, the only man who surpassed him in turn was Altair.

Altair's strength was as a strategist, thinker and a writer, a supreme executor of reason and logic, a contemplative man of honour with great moral courage and tenacity. He was self-possessed, had a good strong voice and won the confidence and trust of those who dealt with him. And during those rare times he spoke it was usually something profound and wise.

But there was another side to him that Alamgir had once described with this phrase; _"With magnanimity that matches his ruthlessness and an intellect that could outwit Fhajad, Lelouch and Schneizel combined, he's the most dangerous man I've ever known in my life. And I'm glad his allegiance is to us. But never forget who his parents are. He's as unpredictable as his father and as ruthless as his mother". _

He was the anti-Chaos, possessed of an innate ability to spontaneously crystallise a workable structure out of disorder, seen in the current recovery and salvage operations. And a man who inspired no small measure of terror in his enemies as well. As expected from the Grand Patriarch of the Sahar Dynasty. A man who'd assassinated his own mother to attain the throne.

He gazed at Schneizel, ripping through the psionic scrambling and psychic vortices generated by the psi nullifiers in the room like so much useless chaff as he implanted the message in their minds. _"Meet me in my chambers later. We have much to discuss."_

"Given the lack of progress, this conference is to be adjourned for six hours. Prepare your motions in that time. In the meantime I suggest that conference members do their best to get rested. We're all in for a long night."

**WWW**

Schneizel glanced around the room. Noticing the thick Kashmiri and Persian carpets that hung from the walls, many of them antiques made of woven silk and other natural fibres, he noted the sort of books that Altair kept in his personal library. The works of Carl von Clausewicz, Antoine Henri Jomini, Lee Kuan Yew, Goh Chok Tong, Deng Xiaoping, Pervez Musharraf, Marcus Aurelius, Bernard Montgomery, William Joseph Slim, Erwin Rommel, Hyman George Rickover, Story Musgrave, Nelson Mandela and Vladimir Putin, amongst many noted statesmen, philosophers, military theorists and other people of renown.

Altair apparently had a penchant for reading biographies and political theory. A well-thumbed volume on chess history and strategy was also there, standing out beside a book on card tricks and prestidigitation. He noted how the chess pieces were carved from sapphire and opals, perhaps the only other visible display of wealth besides the carpets. The Sahar Dynasty was one of fabulous wealth and weren't afraid to use it.

"There are several hundred books in this library. A small part of my collection. Most of my collection remains in the Imperial Archives of Colombo" Altair spoke as he strode into the room, pulling off his robes to reveal the armour beneath it.

Consisting of plates of aqua-plastic, dense multi-bonded polymers that possessed strength above even Titanium, it could turn a blade and stop most kinetic projectiles up to – but not inclusive of - 30 mm depleted uranium which had a tendency to rip through most materials. Shakplas or shak-plastic, a

The lean build of a life spent in the military and surviving the labyrinthine politics of the Sahar Dynasty showed in the hard-bitten forty five years of age and the hard eyes, faint lines of age radiating outwards from them. Still, he looked comparatively youthful for a middle-aged man, seemingly in his early 30's rather than his actual number of years.

"You called me to talk. So talk" Schneizel said smoothly, pulling out a teak chair and depositing himself in it. He shifted his robes slightly to expose, perhaps intentionally, the ceramic needle gun he kept on himself at all times moving in its holster. Coated with a potent neurotoxin, he'd developed into a healthily cautious individual after a lifetime spent on guard against assassins.

"I'm sure by now that your analysts have spelt out the consequences of all that's happened" Altair spoke casually, settling into his high-backed chair. Schneizel grimaced. They had enough problems as they were.

"I read Miguel's documents. He'd been following leads on De Dios, piecing everything together. He thought it was some fringe group that posed a minor threat. Obviously that isn't the case any longer. De Dios has demonstrated its capabilities and we know its leader. Lelouch. Or at the very least an imposter -" before being cut off by Altair.

"That's no imposter. He's the real thing" Altair quietly replied. He'd had his analysts run multiple checks and voice printed him as the genuine article. Audio analysis confirmed it as well as the reports of the few surviving Guards Ultras of the 1st Battalion. Lelouch vi Britannia had been present in Tokyo. He'd been present, coordinating his troops and followers, exploiting the chaos he had created to his advantage. He'd been the one to mind-rape Kaguya into her vegetative state.

"I presume you've heard of Kurukshetra's capabilities? A response to the Damocles system you built, I ordered its construction to guard against Damocles should it ever arise again. Plama-based Hellbores. Railgun-based Hellrails. Coil-gun based Magnetic Accelerator Cannons. All in the megaton range of firepower. 500 nuclear warheads in the multi-gigaton range with more than two thousand tactical sub-megaton nuclear warheads and multiple N^2 positron weapons along with subatomic intrinsic field disrupters. All of them are deliverable to multiple points on a global scale via railguns. Now imagine _that_ compared to the multiple FLEIJA warheads of Damocles. We outgun you. Extend that thinking to what would occur if either of our countries engaged in a total war. Not to forget the AIs which manage the entire system which is capable of picosecond reactions."

Schneizel sat rooted to his chair in shock. Was this a threat? A warning? A cold anger began to take root in his emotions as he ran through the possible scenarios, observing the body language of the man before him. This man was no fool.

"It is a warning Schneizel. You're an intelligent man. This is not a threat. What I'm saying is that what _will _occur will be MAD. _Mutually. Assured. Destruction_. No matter who wins, humanity will be extinguished by the sheer amount of ecological damage to the biospheres. Factor in our orbital strike capabilities which are fully operational and not at the prototype stage as you think and what we're talking about is sufficient firepower to shift Earth into an orbit that will leave it _that_ much more inhospitable to life, complete with island to continent-sized chunks of the planet floating behind it. Even the minimum will spawn a nuclear winter. Compound this by the psychics I have at my command, with myself and Fhajad being the first and second most powerful psychics on this planet and you have a recipe for disaster. Do you want this? Unlimited nuclear, biological and chemical warfare compounded by psychic terror weapons, orbital artillery and X-ray lasers?"

"No."

"Good. Neither do we. We face an enemy whose actions were calculated on a global scale to push Britannia into taking the initiative. Durban and Cape Town were economically dominated by investments sourced from India and China. Britannia still maintains a power projection capability while India, China and Japan are destabilised and in no position to act. The situation benefits Britannia despite the losses you've suffered. But they did not take into account the technological advantage that the Indian Commonwelath maintains over Britannia or our capabilities. Capabilities which you only suspected at due to your spies, ineffective as they were."

Altair continued, punctuating each and every point he made with a cold, cutting logic that senior bureaucrats had come to expect of him. Precise. Clinical. Reason.

"We face an enemy that coordinated with multiple factions to destroy multiple members of the Black Knights HIGHCOM and senior members of my staff. An enemy able to cooperate with extremist Islamist and Japanese purists. An enemy that wants us to go to war _without_ the full knowledge that doing so _will _destroy us as a species. An enemy which has destabilised the two strongest military powers capable of halting _any_ Britannian actions in the Indian and Pacific Oceans - China and India. All of the events that have happened here tip the balance in the favour of Britannia. Your decision or rather the decision of Nunnally will make or break the situation. And depending on the outcome, I will have to respond. Make the right choice."

**WWW**

Fhajad wheeled himself along on his wheelchair, his Kshatriya sticking closely to him. In the past several days several factions within the Sahar Dynasty had attempted to have him killed via poison or other numerous means. But what they failed to take into account was that amongst the sprawling houses of the Sahar Dynasty on this world was a very simple rule; within the domain of Altair, it was best to observe discretion in such acts. Crossing both brothers at the same time only invited retaliation.

He halted at the entrance to the _Thorn_, the private float-frigate of Miguel de Silva, his deceased father figure and mentor. A flicker of images, of the few occasions when he'd been truly happy flashed through his mind. Of rare childhood days, of a summer spent aboard the _Thorn,_ experiencing the webs of intrigue that the Master of Assassins wove around himself and those he served.

Altair had circulated publicly that he was in a coma. A fabricated story to allow him a degree of mobility in how he operated. More than ever he needed someone he could trust. Navin perhaps? That would have to wait for a bit though. His younger brother had a part to play yet in the schemes that were to come. Navin Chirac. His wildcard. The Ace-in-the-Hole. Altair's Instrument. The embodiment of _the Demon_. It was something that Altair had inserted into Navin's mind under the watchful care of Rania and Alamgir. Navin was many things, but he served as a contingency within himself.

He turned and saw two large men escort Schneizel to the walkway as well. He sized them up as did his Kshatriya, knowing exactly who they were. Gaheris Templars, products of Geass research and biological engineering that had produced men of phenomenal physical prowess and reflexes. Super soldiers. But he smiled smugly, letting Schneizel read the message behind the smile. His Kshatriya could still take them, as could any senior Guards Ultra with a Geass canceller or psychic nullifier.

He dismissed his Kshatriya, knowing that they would respond within seconds should he issue the call. The _Thorn_ was psychically shielded, psi scramblers capable of hampering even a Master of the Mantle, they who possessed the Longevity of Guardianship, its power greater than even the Code of Immortality. A psychic measured at Tier 4 RKI (Rakshata-Kurzweil Index) would have enormous trouble with it as well as a Tier 5 like him, as Miguel had intended. A Tier 6 like Altair who limited his powers with self-imposed mental blocks wouldn't be bothered in the least by the barriers if he so wished. Altair had many secrets, his psi the least among them.

"Hello Schneizel. Would you care to wheel me or shall I help myself?" Fhajad asked slyly. Schneizel glanced at him before walking forward without a word, entering the _Thorn _through the portal. Fhajad shrugged and let his psi do the work, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair and following behind.

**WWW**

Schneizel glanced around the conference room on board, noticing the outstanding pieces of taxidermy that filled the room. Perhaps the only macabre things about Miguel was the fact that he had a tendency to have the heads of his enemies stuffed and mounted. Miguel was if anything a predator of human beings, something he'd taught both Fhajad and Schneizel how to be.

"So that's where it ended up..." commented Schneizel as he stared at the stuffed corpse of George Washington, instigator of the Washington Rebellion that had nearly formed the United States of America. The glassy eyes stared out at the wall even as it held onto the antique musket, well-oiled and no doubt still capable of working.

In his childhood and well into his mid-twenties the _Thorn_ had been his surrogate home. As a young man in his prime, amongst the imperial heirs to the throne and all that came with it, Miguel had facilitated Schneizel's love life, allowing him to use the frigate as a den of sorts, bringing back his romantic conquests for days spent luxuriating in the opulence of the ship. Many a young woman had been wooed by the dashing young prince before being deposited at their respective homes with respectably sized cheques in hand to buy their silence. If not, they were paid a visit by certain members of Section 6 of the CIS (Central Intelligence Service) who...reminded them of the need for silence.

He settled into the mahogany chair where he'd spent a fair amount of his youth poring over stories from Greek mythology, learning about the tales of the Trojan War, of the bravery of the ancient Spartans at Thermopylae. He remembered back even further, to nights spent sitting by the fire on a cold winter as Miguel's eyes sparkled with mischief, entertaining him, Euphemia, Clovis, Cornelia, Lelouch and Nunnally with entrancing tales of King Arthur and his knights and other things besides. He always remembered the man speaking with a certain animation, as if Miguel himself had been present right there as Arthur had pulled the sword from the stone....

"_Memories. All dust. Ashes. Just like you old man...."_ Schneizel thought sadly, gaze wandering over the shelves, now filled with framed photos and books. He turned around to see Fhajad wheel himself into the room, a bottle of some indistinct liquor in hand.

"Schneizel. I brought some Jamaican rum along. Three centuries. From the cellars of the Sahar Palace in Colombo. My mother kept a large collection there and this bottle in particular is special. On the day of my birth, when my mother first stated her desire to see the Indian Commonwealth as a reality rather than a dream with either of her sons as the ruler, Miguel gave her this bottle. Amazing how things come back one full circle. I propose a toast."

Clinking two small glasses, Schneizel raised his first. "To the Master of Assassins. To the Whispering Death of Britannia." Fhajad raised his own, adding on to the toast. "To the only man I ever feared. To the only person besides Lelouch whom I regarded as an equal."

"_Salud!" _the two spoke simultaneously as their glasses clinked together. They downed the rum in a shot, relishing the burning sensation of the liquor as it flowed down their throats. Finally, they could attend to business. Placing it on the teak table beside him, Schneizel steepled his hands together. They could finally get down to business.

Fhajad looked him straight in the eye as he began. "I've got a proposition for you Schneizel. How would you like to be the Emperor of Britannia?"

**WWW**

Suzaku sat alone in his and Nunnally's quarters, staring at the television screen as Lelouch's video was replayed over and over on the main news networks, accompanied by overviews of the ruins that were once Tokyo. Craters dotted the landscape, a thick smog of concrete dust and pulverised steel filling the air. Embedded correspondents attached to units of the Singapore Guards and Commando battalions entered the field, a hellish landscape few humans could have imagined.

Outside the quarters he could hear the pacing of the guards. The charade was over. For 5 long years he'd masqueraded as Zero, champion of the people, slayer of the Demon Emperor of Britannia. Five long years carrying the burden of his best friend. A burden that had bound him to live despite his deepest wish to die. Forever alone, carrying the burden of the world's peace and happiness on his shoulders. He'd walked alone, a dark path whose only brightness had been Nunnally. Now.....it was over. The whole world knew. Lelouch or Tuathal as he preferred to be called had revealed _everything_. The deception. The misdirection. _Maskirovka._

All they'd sacrificed for the sake of the Zero Requiem, the fragile peace that held the world together. _Gone_. Yet somewhere within him he felt.....relieved? Unburdened. It was no longer within his control. It was no longer his burden. A burden that had nearly destroyed his sanity with its terrible weight. He was no leader. Just a follower. Just a mortal man. Not like Lelouch. Suzaku was no longer Zero. But he was no hero either. Yet now....

He had found a reason to live. For Nunnally. For...._the future. _ But what was the future now? An uncertainty. Since his public unmasking three days ago he'd kept to his quarters, unable to show his face in public. An attempted assassination of him by a Singapore Guardsman had nearly succeeded if not for a Guards Ultra who'd intervened, and then only reluctantly, was telling. Suzaku had stared into the Guards Ultra's face and could see the restrained rage within. His brother's dead, the peace broken, all for the sake of a deception that he'd been a principal in. For all his talent and skill in combat, Suzaku knew there was no way in hell he could survive a direct fight with a Guards Ultra.

Suzaku was the co-conspirator of the most hated man in modern history. The man who'd deceived the entire world. Even now it continued, countless machinations of the sins of Britannia, India, China and Japan filling the Web, most half-truth, very few being lies. He'd felt the subtle scans of the Kshatriya who protected him on orders from Fhajad and Altair. Most of them had thought of killing him, only their restraint preventing as such. Nunnally's own bodyguards couldn't be trusted.

The situation he was in was precarious. There were only two outcomes to his current predicament: public execution, preceded by a trial and an uncovering of all the secrets concealed by him _or_ miraculously escaping with his life intact. He didn't want to factor in what the _new_ Tuathal _could_ do, given his knowledge of Lelouch. A possibility stood that Tuathal could even come after Suzaku, recruiting him to his faction.

All Suzaku could do was to sit and wait with folded hands. The very thing he had thought impossible had happened. What was impossible was for a man _not_ to choose. And now Suzaku had no capability to choose.

**WWW**

Tuathal vi Britannia, formerly Lelouch vi Britannia, pondered the strategic situation. The swift appearance of the Kurukshetra was the last thing he'd expected, much less Amshel. The Damocles was an unknown factor but the addition of the Indian superweapons platform worsened it. A wildcard that had been unplanned for, leaving chaos in the wake of his entry. The conditions were only partially met for his plans.

What was meant to trigger a war or at least minor skirmishes between the great powers had suC. greatly in destabilising the UFN along with China and Japan while diverting India's attention to the numerous Islamist groups that had arisen in the past few months. The destruction of the Sinai, Jerusalem, MeC.C.a and Medina would aid greatly in diverting India's resources to pacifying the Middle East. The three greatest military powers capable of stopping Britannia's rise were taken care of. Now it fell to Nunnally or the internal forces arrayed against her within her regime to act.

Miguel de Silva was a non-factor, his corpse cooling in the morgue of the hospital ship _Washington_, his body frozen to preserve it for the eventual state funeral. The biggest threat as Amshel had mentioned to him had been dealt with. The Wily Old Weasel was finally dead.

The hybrid clones Amshel had provided as footsoldiers had been exceedingly efficient, more so than even he'd expected. They shared a communal telepathic consciousness which allowed them to coordinate with each other to an exceptional degree without fear of interception and allowed for superb intelligence gathering and combat efficiency. That they were able to cause their enemies to hallucinate by virtue of their telepathy was an added bonus. Ruthless, relentless and superbly trained in an advanced virtual environment and subliminally, the genetic memories of their clone-fathers a vital resource each of them had aC. to.

But now Tuathal had to halt the progress of the various factions and ponder. The Islamists within the Middle East and India were free to act as far as he was concerned. They were a useful distraction from the attentions of the ISI and the Central Asian nations who funded him would provide a useful distraction as well. But the Diamond Lotus were a different matter as were the Sahar Dynasty. Hidden resources were being mustered and forces rallied as a way to counteract him.

The next obstacle in the way of his strategic plans was the one the dwelt within Europe. The Arbitrator. If anything at all worried Tuathal and Amshel, it was that Miguel would have discovered them. But ever since aC. the Diamond Lotus archive in Antarctica, an even greater threat had risen. Tuathal and Amshel had come to an understanding of _why_ their efforts to destabilise Europe had been halted. It was time to enter the parlour of the spider and slay it.

The Arbitrator and the Morning Star. Aziz Zahedi and Altair Sahar. Little did the newly christened Tuathal, the 'Ruler of the People', instrument of Amshel and Hera, realise the irony that was about to befall him and those he opposed.

**WWW**

There are some cosmological theories, developed from the mathematics of quantum mechanics, that posit an infinite number of alternate universes, covering all possibilities. Every possible outcome of every event, everything we can imagine, and uncountable googleplexes of universes more strange and wonderful than we can imagine. An Omniverse.

Alamgir lived with the reality of that knowledge. As much as his immortality and knowledge separated him from that, he also chose to live in the present, in the single moment of space-time as it presented itself to him, his existence but a small mote in something bigger.

Tlaloc's Legacy. That was the name of the artefact En Sabah Nur....no. It was Aslan. Aslan had crafted it long ago. The die had been cast and as it rolled, the benevolent intent of the Diamond Lotus unravelled before him.

His thoughts turned to a man he'd respect long ago, one of the few whose story was told honestly and truthfully in history. Once a friend, once a brother, forever passed into the ashes of time. Marcus Aurelius. Caesar of the Roman Empire.

"_How much more grievous are the consequences of an event than the causes of it...."_

Worldwide estimates had conservatively placed losses at 105 million lost with the injured numbering in at 10 million. This was the lower bound of the estimates. The high number of casualties had been due more to the thoroughness of the bombings than anything else. Of this number, a bit less than half had come from the Indian Commonwealth, primarily from the two cities of Mumbai (Bombay) and Kolkatta (Calcutta).

This was out of a total world population of 8.4 billion, which resulted in estimates placing it at 1.25% of the total world population. Needless to say, the destruction of Mecca and Medina had left the Muslim diaspora hostile towards Japan and India upon the leaked revelations over the Internet by senior staff within the defence establishments of both nations that it was a jointly built Indo-Japanese weapon that had destroyed their holy cities. Their governments denied it but then again, how had the people responsible gotten the weapon?

Disseminated at the speed of light, the conspiracy theories flew fast and furious over the Web, terabytes of data that held slivers of truth, flowing through the servers of Europe, Africa, South America and the Asia-Pacific. The overwhelming flood of data in the information ocean was itself a precursor of the storm of conflict that was soon to flood the physical world.

And Lelouch had shown himself but in the most unexpected way. But there were two Lelouches. One who called himself Tuathal vi Britannia. And the other Lelouch who sat across from him, arms rigid and fingers digging into the arms of the couch he sat on, focused on the television before him. The one who called himself Anton Maras.

**WWW**

**(A Day Earlier)**

Lelouch and C.C. walked side by side along the river of Arles, enjoying the cool breeze that blew across them, bringing with it the vague salt tang of a distant sea. Arles stood on a branch of the Rhone where it split to form the Grand Rhone and smaller Petit Rhone, forming the Camargue delta that bordered on the Mediterranean.

They stopped to watch the sun set behind the rolling hills of the park, their hands intertwined in the manner of the well-married. Lelouch glanced back at Raven and Aziz who followed distantly behind, themselves holding hands in the manner of the long-married. A lovely though slightly eccentric couple if C.C. had anything to say about it.

Lelouch suddenly took a scrap of paper from his pocket and began to draw something on it, turning away from C.C. and giving it all his attention, throwing quick glances at her. She tolerated this for a few minutes before her curiosity got the better of her.

"Lulu, what're you drawing?" she asked. "A map" was the languid reply as he finally finished his frantic actions, letting her see the piece of paper. She looked and threw a questioning glance at him. "Is this a map? It looks like a closeup of my eyes". Lelouch looked at her, a spark of mischief floating in his eyes. "A map of your eyes. Because I often find myself getting lost in them....."

Time suspended as she looked at Lelouch, slowly bringing one hand to his face and another to her mouth before ceasing her momentary internal struggle. She doubled over, snorting with laughter. "That...oh Lulu. That's so sweet...and corny. Oh my god!"

"Glad you appreciate it" he drawled in a deep Scottish brogue. C.C. giggled and gave him a playful shove in the shoulder. The peace of the moment was broken as Lelouch suddenly collapsed to his knees, gasping in pain as he held his temples. The audible grinding of teeth reached her ears and she dropped beside him. The revelation of his telepathy had been a shock to both of them, C.C. knowing that it wasn't his Geass.

The only rational explanation either could come up with was that En Sabah Nur, the man who'd resurrected Lelouch, had gifted him with the power though C.C. wasn't very sure whether telepathy was a blessing or curse. Being able to talk with those who actively existed in the World of Consciousness was one thing. Being able to read and alter the thoughts and experiences of human beings was something only reserved for possessors of the Mantle or those with psychic abilities...and C.C. _knew _Lelouch wasn't psychic.

Then slowly she began to feel it, the screams of a million people and more that emanated through the World of Consciousness, that filled the collective world within which the dead lived, a layer far deeper than even those of the Code had the ability to reach unless within the World of C itself. A scratching at her mind, jagged glass that tore at the superficial layers. She immediately withdrew, feeling the tiny awareness that was her daughter recoil in fear. But it only got worse. Doing what she could, she projected feelings of love and warmth, trying to shield the tiny mote from the _screaming_.

Suddenly a blanketing null filled her mind, an ice cold wave of relief that filled her. She heard the grinding of tooth against tooth cease, the sudden silence in her mind, the breeze continuing to blow across them. She looked up at the hand that held her shoulder, following it to its source.

Raven's eyes glowed a dull blue before fading to their normal aquamarine colour, Aziz helping Lelouch up from his foetal position on the ground beside him. Fragments of memory flowed and spiralled in helical patterns through her mind, evading her grasp as she realised that she _did_ know Aziz. The aching familiarity she felt when she was near him.

Then it hit her. She scrambled back away from him, looking at him in pure shock. She'd never told Lelouch of the gap in her memories, of the missing 150 years of her life that she'd lived, unable to remember anything beyond the fragile images that she so tenuously held, lightly touching them with her mind. His face flashed to the forefront as she finally realised _who_ he was. All she knew of that gap was that she was happy. She had been loved, truly and deeply, just like Lelouch loved her now. And the face of that man was the same as the man in front of her now.

The man she'd loved centuries ago. The man who'd been the father of her firstborn son. The one who'd disappeared as abruptly and cryptically as he'd come, taking her memories and leaving only the faint trails of his foot 150 years later. _Gabriel. _

"Gabriel." Aziz looked at her and a vague glint came to his eyes. He cast a look at Raven and shook his head. At that moment she heard a gasp come from someone close by before he found herself enveloped in a pair of familiar arms.

"_Caramia. My god....Caramia" _she heard in her mind, the voice laced with a profound relief_. _It wasAlamgir Netanyahu. The Grand Master of the Diamond Lotus. The new En Sabah Nur.

**WWW**

(**The Present)**

C.C. glanced at the inscrutable face of Gabriel of her past and Aziz of her present as he stood in the kitchen. She'd known that face intimately, had been introduced to most if not all of the carnal pleasures she knew from him especially. The selfsame man who'd been good-natured and jovial in their inn so many weeks ago was the man who'd fragmented her memory, disappearing with their son more than five centuries ago, when she'd been young and naïve. The man who'd aided in her masquerade as Joan of Arc.

Across from her sat the stoic Alamgir, his expression reduced to a contemplative one as he scanned the people around the room, gaze lingering on Lelouch before flicking across to her slightly rounded abdomen. The story of Lelouch's origins had been revealed to all, Lelouch not taking it well in the least. To be told that one was _the_ original Lelouch, the consciousness of said individual inhabiting a body that was originally cloned for nefarious purposes and how a new clone had unsurprisingly surfaced within the same span of time...was not an easy story to absorb.

C.C. had always been aware of the higher powers that existed above the Geass Directorate, of how those of the Diamond Lotus took it upon themselves to remain in the background as simple observers of history while the Geass Directorate actively altered history. The Diamond Lotus could have taken measures at any time yet chose not to, leaving those who held the power of the Code to engage in internecine warfare over the centuries until it had been whittled down to just her and V.V. Victor Vargas di Britannia.

She knew their mission and purpose for amongst the holders of the Code of Immortality she was the one closest to the Diamond Lotus and their Grand Master, Alamgir. She'd also been the adopted daughter of the En Sabah Nur, Aslan. The late Aslan as it was. Now Alamgir held the power of both.

"Did you know I have a nephew?" Alamgir asked her. C.C. shook her head. Alamgir continued. "His name is Navin. By blood he is a descendant of the Emperor Napoleon and the Romanov Family on his mother's side and thus a claimant to both the thrones. He's the son of Benjamin. I'm sure you remember him. He died 16 years ago. Killed by assassins from Britannia, the Chinese and the Sahar Dynasty. He's in Tokyo now under the care of Fhajad. He also happens to be the young Karen's boyfriend."

"A small world after all. Isn't that what Ben said all the time?" C.C. replied.

Alamgir nodded. "I manipulated events so as to place my own family into the path of calamity. I knew that Lelouch once loved Karen and I knew too that Navin would be attracted to her. How I knew? Aziz told me. I placed Navin near him because Navin is a wildcard, manipulated and engineered as an anti-psychic weapon, invisible to oracular sight like Bruce and Tony. Karen is a pivot point of time, a potentiality that can lead to an actuality. The highest chance was of her encountering Lelouch but now....well, there's Lelouch and then there's Tuathal."

"So Lelouch was resurrected by En Sabah Nur by restoring his original consciousness to a prototype clone that he stole from an enemy he couldn't see. But more clones were being produced and so he attacked and disrupted them, destroying their capacity to create more clones like Lelouch semi-permanently. In the process he got himself killed. Am I up to speed so far?"

"Yes."

"And you did this in a calculated effort to find me and Lelouch because you require a man of Lelouch's calibre to carry out the plan you have in mind for humanity's survival, given the current threat. Which you don't really know that much about anyway" she added on at the end.

"More or less Caramia. Or is it Cera? I never remembered which name you preferred. But that's beside the point. I saw a threat on the horizon. All the Stewards of the Mantle saw it. The enemy has in his possession an artefact of sufficient power to create a psychic shroud that is an antithesis to my powers. Were I to use them I'd die like Aslan and I don't intend on that just yet. Not until I know who it is. At the same time Aslan drained his powers destroying their ability to make more clones of Lelouch so I'm still recovering from that. The powers are regenerating but slowly. They're also disrupted by whatever artefact the adversary has. Tuathal is but one of the brains behind this. There are forces more powerful than him behind this. Someone high up in the ranks of the Britannian government, that is certain."

"So your idea basically consisted of finding me and _through_ me, finding Lelouch and recruiting him in an effort to take care of this mess. And why should he? It's not his burden. Not anymore. He suffered through the Zero Requiem to make this world a better place. He doesn't deserve this and you know that."

"And as you can see, all he worked for is coming apart. Miguel de Silva is dead, the Sahar Dynasty is split from within with rogue factions colluding against the Shah-Emperor, the great powers are destabilised and politicians lacking the experience of the old generation have their fingers hovering near the triggers to their nuclear arsenal. The world is on the brink of collapse due to the reaction _against_ the Zero Requiem. He wasn't thorough enough. And then we have the damnable Arbitrator..." Alamgir finished, the last few words directed in a harsh tone against the man who sat in the kitchen, humming as he chopped up the onions for dinner.

**WWW**

Dinner was a quiet affair, punctuated by attempts at conversation that drifted off into silence. Alamgir kept his gaze on Lelouch and Aziz as did C.C. Finally, as Raven cleared up the dishes, the women quietly moving off to the kitchen, Aziz beckoned for Lelouch to follow him.

Lelouch stood up slowly, weary of all the changes. Tokyo, his home for nearly half his life lay in ruins, who knows how many of his old associates dead or dying. His sister Nunnally had been maneuvered into a precarious diplomatic position, caught between the disenfranchised military she'd gutted in the last five years with her policies, a means to curb the expansionist desire of the empire. Slowly, the cogs of the mind that had once led the Black Knights to countless victories and orchestrated the Zero Requiem began their slow work.

Forces were at play in the here and now that had lay beyond his understanding. He'd heard rumours of the Diamond Lotus but only now did he truly understand their potency. The Illuminati were a myth, a misdirection constructed by the Diamond Lotus over the centuries to direct attention away from them. The Geass Directorate that he had thought extinct was a hydra, its countless branches and supporters scattered throughout the governments of the world, nurtured by members of the Sahar in retaliation for his ascent. The wild psychics, liberated from the main weapons program and collaborating with Sahar rogues, sought to undermine the Indians and the Chinese.

He could guess at Alamgir's intent. Caramia had told him enough of Alamgir to know that the man could be trusted to an extent. Trusted as far as an immortal potentially capable of causing supernovae and breaking down the walls of reality across vast swaths of the galaxy could be trusted, truth be told. That was the gist of what Caramia had told him.

The trio leaned against the balcony, Alamgir nursing an orange vodka, Lelouch a Bloody Mary and Aziz a cold San Miguel beer. "So who are you really?" Lelouch began. "C.C.'s been uncomfortable as hell around you and all I could get from her was that you're the Arbitrator. Oh, I know what the Diamond Lotus is. C.C's filled me in on all the blanks. You're what the Illuminati dream of being" Lelouch spoke as he glanced at Alamgir and Aziz.

Alamgir coughed. The Illuminati were a myth that was a product of a misinformation campaign that a bunch of fabulously wealthy Jewish banking families had successfully exploited to try and have a go and ruling the world in a typical secret conspiracy.

Unfortunately for them they'd chosen to cross Ashima Sahar in her younger days nearly a century before. Being as powerful a psychic as she was, life extension therapies such as genetic rejuvenation and telomere extension were one of many restricted technologies she had access to. Though of course par the course she'd used her own psychic powers to rewrite portions of her DNA with regards to aging, extending her own lifespan.

A strong-willed woman like her had refused to bow down to a bunch of "_hook-nosed, money-hungry, Christ-killing, penny-pinching bunch of inbred goat-fucking Zionists_" as Alamgir was fond of quoting her. It didn't necessarily escape Ashima's notice that Alamgir Netanyahu, the Grand Master of the Mantle of Guardianship, was Jewish.

"I am who I am. Alamgir Netanyahu. You know of the three things that bind this world. The Power of Geass which you once had, the Code of Immortality which C.C. has but suppresses and the Mantle of Guardianship, granted in limited power at varying levels to those who would qualify for it. But above all that is the Throne of Engai- the power of En Sabah Nur. That is what I have. Of the four I stated, the most powerful is that of the Throne of Engai. We protect human society from self-destruction and observe the hidden aspects of history. And we act if we need to."

"And what gives you the right to do this? Your immortality? Your powers? Your knowledge?" Lelouch challenged. Alamgir replied levelly. "In this world, might makes right as you demonstrated so admirably several years ago. Half a decade if I remember. _Demon Emperor of Britannia_. A spectacular title if I do say so. And a spectacular demonstration. Of course, all you fought for, the peace you brought about through your deception has fallen apart after the actions of Tuathal. A rogue clone that De Dios made, or more accurately Amshel made."

"So doesn't the blame still come back to you for failing to deal with an ambitious underling, a Steward of the Mantle who has neutered the ability of your impotent Diamond Lotus to respond to a threat that's destroyed the lives of millions? A Steward who somehow came into possession of an artefact that killed the first En Sabah Nur?"

Alamgir opened his mouth to reply before Aziz made a subtle cutting motion. Lelouch and Alamgir turned their attention to him, wary of the literal wildcard before them. The one who'd known of Amshel's involvement yet remained silent on the matter. To be "_neutral_". Not that they knew of course.

But within Aziz cursed himself. He'd never expected this. So much blood. So much pain. A single miscalculation, a single misstep on his part had cost the lives of millions the world over. With Amshel he'd observed restraint. The time for restraint was past. They'd even managed to get rid of Miguel, killing an immortal Master of the Mantle with a combination of thermite-based incendiary bullets, mutagenic acid and dust charged with negative psi energy. All was not going to plan.

"The blame goes to no one. All Stewards of the Mantle go through a stage of ambition, of seeking a greater power so as to shape the world as they see fit. Ben went through it didn't he Alamgir?"

Alamgir sniffed. His brother had attempted to usurp him at one point. However after spending a year within the Pyramid of Giza with nothing to do but think and hang around with preserved Pharoah's, tricked into entering by Aslan who'd been quite nonchalant about the entire thing, he'd come round.

"The point of the matter is that we have an adversary before us intent on uniting the Code, Geass and Mantle in their entirety and gaining the power that will come from that. The only person capable of counteracting that is well....the En Sabah Nur at full power. Though there's a good chance it could kill him. But the fact is that the power you've gained is disrupted after the death of the first and will take years, if not a full century to fully recover. Otherwise it wouldn't have been so difficult to deal with."

"Azaluhaiz. You. You're the only -"

"**DO NOT CALL ME THAT NAME!**" Aziz roared in a sudden outburst before rapidly regaining his composure. "_Please_ don't call me that. I am not the entity you named nor am I of the same nature. That is a name with a legacy I do not wish to be associated with. As for who can do it- Altair or Ranvir his son and possibly Raven in her current form."

"It is a worthy legacy. It is a word that gives freedom, a name that speaks of honour, duty, cunning, virtue, sacrifice, evil...whatever have you, be it positive or negative as humans define it, it is something you can't leave behind" Alamgir spoke, aiming the words at Aziz.

"I can and I have. And we won't speak of this thing again" Aziz spoke softly next. He turned to Lelouch, his face questing for answers. In so many ways, this man was similar to what he'd once been. Noble. Proud. Aristocratic. But the burden of saviourdom would come to this one soon enough. Perhaps he'd found a worthy successor to become the Arbitrator after so long. The wildcard who would both be truly neutral and chaotically neutral, bringing chaos and anti-chaos to the world when it was needed.

"Yes my dear boy. All of us have secrets. For the sake of your own sanity I suggest avoiding looking too far into the matter of the Ulthaj. You'll find nothing in any archive of this world, bar in the archives of the Sahar Dynasty. And no, it's not something you can exploit with me. But why I called you here is something. You're a rare thing. Like the Jesus of Nazareth, the very same one I crucified so long ago in my life as Longinus of Rome, you are a maw in the face of time, a man whose resurrection from death shrouds you from the gross view of oracles. Congratulations Lelouch. You're going to be the messiah once more."

**WWW**

Tuathal shook his head. His new name meant 'Ruler of the People' in Celtic. A strong name that had been the second choice of his parents. He'd taken it for himself, to distinguish himself from the previous version of himself. A former life that he had no intention of repeating. But it had begun all over again. The decimation of Tokyo. The destruction of so many cities. The deaths of millions. It was beginning all over again.

It felt _wrong_. Every time he fell asleep, it seemed as if something had gone wrong somewhere. His motivation had always been to build a better world for Nunnally yet so many had paid in blood for it. Shirley Fenette. Euphemia li Britannia. Everything he'd done, everything he'd accomplished – all of it was to atone for the blood shed by him from the very beginning. All of it had begun with Clovis. All of it had ended with him.

Now his allies that stood beside him in his agenda wreaked their own havoc, his carefully constructed events evolving into a beast beyond his control. He'd done what he could, taking advantage of the chaos to end the greatest threat to his agenda in the form of Miguel. But even he regretted the loss of life. The wanton slaughter of innocents perpetrated by his allies was terrorism. Such an act undermined his claim for a better world, his desire for the Zero Requiem to return to its roots. He'd revealed the truth to all, of the secret deals that had been made, of the truth behind the lie of Zero. Yet for his doubt the mandate of his enemies was undermined. Once he was in control his erstwhile allies would be dealt with summarily.

Amshel entered as he continued to ruminate on his motivations. "Amshel?"

"Yes my lord Lelouch?" Amshel asked in that clipped manner of speech that was his trademark.

"We are evil men. We do evil acts. Don't you agree? And please, call me Tuathal. Lelouch is dead. I died the minute I became a monster like my father. All men become their father's at one point or another. Why do we do this? Tell me again."

Amshel paused. At times like this, when Tuathal was melancholic and filled with self-doubt, he had to subtly draw upon his psi powers as a Steward, weaving the subtle spell that compelled Tuathal to the deeds he did. But what worked far better in this case was using logic to throw the questions back at him. As long as he did not discover Amshel's own ambition or that of Hera, then all was well and good. They had power, but that power wasn't enough.

"Did you not say to me that what we do is necessary for the sake of the world? We do what we do because we believe in it. Do not be conquered by evil, but conquer evil with good. What we do is a lesser evil to liberate the world from the Diamond Lotus. I came to you because you are the only one capable of this, of destroying the Diamond Lotus and the Geass Directorate once and for all. What we do, when all is said and done, is like that of a goldsmith tempering their gold in flames. Humanity is that gold and it must be tempered just right, at just the right temperatures, for the impurity to be liberated from it."

"So we choose a lesser evil for the greater good rather than a greater evil for a lesser good? One for the other?" Tuathal asked. Amshel nodded. The psychic shroud that enveloped his higher introspective functioning was reinforced now. A lesser danger. Tuathal remained an instrument but a dangerous instrument nonetheless.

"Millions will die now so that hundreds of millions will live a free life later. This is for the greater good Tuathal. Surely you need no reminding of that? Isn't that what you died for? What your revelations to the world will accomplish? To let humans think for themselves and rely upon themselves once more rather than placing their collective destiny in the hands of their fellow man? I would rather that than the destiny of our race decided by those who conspire in the shadows."

"That....that is true. Thank you Amshel. Leave that package here. Now go."

As Tuathal ate the food, the subtle poison working its way through his body, another measure of control he was unaware about, the puppet on a string wielded by one stronger than him, he had only a single thought.

"_Am I a good man who commits evil deeds or an evil man who commits evil for a greater good? Shirley....she was true to me. Like C.C.. Like Karen. Despite all the lies they always remained true. Shirley always told me how she felt spied upon. How...she felt enclosed. I do not remember why I live. A loyalist who revived me. A cause to which I hold no loyalty. So why do I fight?"_

Tuathal was a puppet upon a string. It would be disastrous if he were ever to discover whoever it was that pulled the strings.

**WWW**

Navin hobbled up to the corpse beside Aaron, watching as Aaron smoothed the hair of his deceased father. First Lieutenant Aaron Kim, eldest son of the legendary Zaki 'Zack' Kim. His foster brother. His friend. Son of the many men who'd raised him.

"It was a quick death. An injury like that...." Navin said before falling silent. What could be said? Not 'sorry', for what good would apologising do? Here was a man who'd raised him. And here he lay dead. As was his wife and children, the siblings of Aaron, dead by the nerve gas attacks on the main compound in Johor. His entire family. Navin's family. His real family.

He winced slightly as he withdrew, leaving Aaron to his grief, his cracked ribs singing a song of agony that was dulled by the morphine. He limped along on his left, the scar tissue from the surgery fresh where they'd fused his torn anterior cruciate ligaments and achilles tendon together using flash-cloned cartilage. His left eye, the new flash-cloned biological one that had replaced his mangled cybernetic one, itched with unshed tears.

He heard a muffled sob and placed his hand on Aaron's shoulder, giving a slight squeeze before departing, leaving his friend to grieve in privacy, a son mourning his father. He halted at the door of the morgue, suddenly shivering violently. He leaned against the wall and began to breathe, focusing only on the exhalations. In. Out. The shivering subsided.

Navin was surprised. He felt....numb. _Surreal._ That was the word. Zaki Kim had been his foster father. Dead. Anwar Ramachandra, Hero of the Battle of Zamboanga. The elder brother who always raised him. Nearly dead. The men and women of the 1st Guards Ultras who'd collectively raised him since childhood. His family. Dead. So many of the people at Ashford. Dead.

"_That is a natural outcome of this event. War is a human foible. Death is but a part of nature and should be accepted, if not celebrated. They are in a better place than here"_ the voice within said.

"Shut. Up." Navin whispered through clenched teeth. It subsided, whispering to him at the edge of his mind. Not since he was 16 had he heard it. Throughout the war years it had kept him sane, protecting him from the stress of combat as he threw himself into it again and again. The wish for carnage, for the berserker within to be unleashed tore at him. He'd let the _other_ guide him, gaining him the appellation of the Demon Thunder. The single thing that had let him fight Luciano Bradley to a stalemate even at the cost of his entire squad as they'd died all around him.

"_They are dead. Accept that. It is -"_

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he screamed before slamming his head against the bulkhead. He felt slightly woozy as the blood dribbled down from the small gash in his forehead. He staggered down the corridor, leaning heavily against his walking stick. He'd shielded Suzaku and Tohdoh as best as he could in his Ganishka. The result of the entire Tokyo incident was second degree burns to his legs, a broken arm and a cracked ribcage.

The _other _spoke again. He tried to suppress it yet its voice came through, clear and lucid. The one who lived within him, who'd grown up within him. The Demon. And he was its vessel, the Thunder that resounded its presence.

"_They are dead. There is nothing you can do to change that. You cannot change what is past. It was fated. Their karma. I am sorry for your loss. I feel it. I'm a part of you after all. And what you feel....it is okay Navin. They loved us. We loved them. Death ended their lives but not our relationship with those who are dead."_

"Why? Why do you keep coming back? All I want is to live. All I want...." Navin said within his mind before sobbing. "I just want to be left alone. I just want..."

"_Denial. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. Rage. Find her. Share your grief with her. Let her support you."_

"No". Karen had her own worries, her own hurts. Thankfully Kotomi had survived, safe and sound in Hokkaido with her family. What he could do now was to see Anwar.

**WWW**

"Zack's dead isn't he? Same with my family?" the voice rasped from within the neutral buoyancy tank. Anwar floated in the saline solution, the damage to his body far too extensive for even medical science to treat. Navin sniffed the sterile air of the ICU, his hand tapping a staccato beat against the cool plastic of the tank.

Silence. Navin heard Anwar rasp through his throat as he made an attempt at strained laughter. Then he stopped in a fit of coughing before continuing.

"Karen Kozuki. Or Karen. She's a rare one. A spitfire. _Bunga Mawar_. The Rose Flower. She loves you Navin. Look after her. Make sweet love and have lots of babies yeah? Name one of them after me. Heh heh heh. Heh-" before he launched into a coughing fit. It subsided as he regained his focus. His voice was warm, a tinge of affection to it that only rarely was heard.

"Davian and Mehru are alive. My beautiful twins. They're in the custody of the Guards. You're their godfather. Look after them. My wife and our other children....they died at Narita. In the airport. Srirasmi is dead. Identify them...the bodies. Cremate them. Insurance forms in my quarters. My parents are dead. Most of our families back in Johor are. I....Navin...you were always my younger brother. Beyond blood. Look after yourself. I'm not going to make it. You know that. Insha'Allah. Even if I was Muslim and you Catholic...you were always my brother. Me. Zaki. Bruce. Tony. Rania. Alamgir. You were our son, our brother, our blood. You lived and brought us joy as you were. Just you. Yourself."

The barely recognisable frame closed its eyes, the other orb puckered shut as the ruined body floated in the tank. Navin stepped back, suddenly unable to tolerate it any longer. He had to get away. From everything. He withdrew, getting away from the room as fast as he could. He exited into the corridor of the medical wing of the Kurukshetra, looking left and right for the nearest washroom.

He saw one and raced toward it, a small one tucked away in an empty corner of the wing. He entered and locked the door behind him. Staring into the mirror, he splashed water on his face, his organic eye red and bloodshot. Finally, when he was sure he was alone, he began to cry.

**A/N**:(Non-Aligned Movement; all the countries not part of the Black Knights, EU or Britannia). Any questions as to where this is going? I'll answer them in the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_**Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise and respective agencies. Original and relevant materials are mine.**_

**A/N: A lot of exposition this chapter and background for the AU. Hell of a late update eh? Long story short, life got in the way and I had an epic case of writers block which only recently lifted, allowing me to come up with a way to conclude this story. For those of my readers who are finally coming back to this – I apologise profusely. Hope you enjoy. This fleshes out the world of the AU a lot more. And it should be about...80 000 words at minimum to a maximum of 300 000 words, depending on how long and what parts of the story I include.**

* * *

"_The Rafzakael Requiem lasted from June 2023 to December 2030. 6 and a half years of bloody conflict that led to the ascension of the Sahar Dynasty, the formation of the Confederation of Sahar Allied States, the UNC – and the beginnings of the interstellar exodus to the stars. The following interview with Khalid Al-Asad, former Director-General of the Imperial Services Intelligence, the ISI, helps shed light on this hotly debated topic, even a century later."_

_-**Dhamsig, of Kiith Khandos, of the Lhasa Band, of the Imperial Clan, Clan Sajuuk. President of Wolfson College, Cambridge UNAversity. Foreword to "Perspectives of the Rafzakael Requiem" by Cynthia Maras.**_

_"A military life attracts young people for many reasons - duty,comradeship,purpose, the opportUNAty to test life to the limits, to learn a trade,escape from home, adventure...even patriotism. But for the youth lacking a stable caring home, it provides family, a tribal group appealing to the social instincts, with all the security and meaning that goes with it. They crave the structure, approval, attention, and clear rules that their parents should have given them; and we can supply it. It is a vocation, a steady pay and a duty with a clear purpose. But is has it own share of hardships and nonsense associated with it, like any large organisation that requires and invests in human resources. There are benefits, but there are also costs...downsides to it. Externalities." _

_-**Sahar Dynasty Imperial Legion Forces &UNA-Strategic Forces Recruitment Consultant (anon.)**_

* * *

Khalid Al-Asad waits for me to arrive. At 217 years old, he is nearing the maximum lifespan (250 years) of a human of Clade Tzasu. There are comparatively few baseline humans left, most refusing the process of genetic enhancements and bioengineering for philosophical and religious reasons – like the Amish and Druze. Then again, this is a population numbering in the billions and spread out over more than a few star systems.

He sits in a chair, a butler attending to him. The folded skin of his face and the crinkles belie his age, making him look to be in his late 40's, his sharp eyes indicate a calculating intellect behind them – par the course for the former chief of the dread ISI.

The Imperial Kshatriya who ushered us in leaves the room, his psychic presence withdrawing from the minds of me and my cameraman. An intimidating presence all in all, they are assigned only to high value personnel. Given his retired status, the assignment of a platoon of soldiers - Imperial Kshatriya no less - to guard Khalid Al-Asad indicates his value to the Sahar Dynasty and the current Imperator, Marikha Chandrasekha Sahar, daughter of Adilah Sahar and Navin Chirac, the current Imperator. One would not expect less when protecting a former member of the Imperial Council. In his retirement, he runs a casino resort in Malta.

Khalid Al-Asad points to the hovering camera drone that follows me, a single ball of tough thermoplastic, ceramics and a 30 megapixel camera recording everything. He smiles and gestures at it, waving off a small combat drone that decloaks to inspect it. The drone acknowledges him and cloaks itself, disappearing in a coiled flicker of light, lacking the shimmer of conventional thermoptic active camouflage found in UNA territories.

We chat about the recent stock market runs, the weather, a thousand little things before I slowly start to edge closer to the main subject of the interview. The old man looks at me and throws me a charming smile, gesturing me to sit while a housekeeper brings us a carafe of wine and a tray of cheese and bread.

A pack of six dogs gambol around the former "Master of Assassins". A notable one is a quiet black dog with an underbelly of white fur that Khalid assures me is a mix between a black Labrador Retriever and an Irish Setter. A small brown mongrel sites quiet beside him, white muzzle indicating her age. A relatively young Rottweiler that greeted me enthusiastically when I first entered sits patiently beside Khalid, gazing hungrily at the food. I stealthily slip it a piece of cheese and it approves greatly, chomping down on it and leaving my hand covered in drool. I wipe it on my shirt and reach for my recorder.

The interview begins.

**[9/10/2235, Valleta, Malta]**

**May we start?**

Certainly. We have all the time in the world. I'm certainly going nowhere

[He speaks with a clipped, precise manner and with a London accent. Queen's English – an indicator of training at Sandhurst more than a century before.

**I'm certainly honoured that you were willing to grant this interview to the BBC General Al-Asad. **

Call me Khalid. I'm retired from the ISI. Have been so for more than a decade. As you can see, I am but a humble resort owner in Malta.

**Khalid. Very well then. I assume you already know who I am?**

[chuckles]

My dear girl, just because I am retired, more than 2 centuries old and on death's door doesn't mean I am unaware of a rising journalist. I tracked your early career with MTV North America before you did two decades with the Natural Geographic Society exploring and documenting Chiron in Alpha Centauri and the moons of Tammosk. I also particularly like your work with the Economist Intelligence Unit. You might very well have been an ISI analyst had I chosen to recruit you right out of college. But I digress.

We are here to talk – about Imperator Altair Uren I, Kallen Kozuki, Tuathal de Britannia, Lelouch Lamperouge and the Rafzakael Requiem. Your..._dramatis personae_. Heroes and villains one and all. And I am the last surviving architect of that, given that the last one you interviewed was the former Senior Minister, then eventual Minister Mentor. Isn't that right Ms. Cynthia Maras? You want to know how the world ended up in the grip of that madness. You want to know of the heroes and their villains, of their failings and triumphs. And perhaps a few tidbits about your late great-grandmother. A search for yourself, no?

**Given that my ancestry is not a matter of discussion at this time, I'd prefer to stick to the topic Khalid. Though I'm unsure whether to be flattered or uncomfortable with the attention. I've been told that this interview will remain uncensored and this conversation unmonitored by the ISI?**

My dear girl, I trained the ISI senior cadres. I was their Director-General for up till 2215 before I retired. They'd better damn well accord me the respect I deserve, considering the fact that I used to sit on the Imperial Council.

Just like how the Britannians won the First Pacific War against the then Japanese Empire, who instigated it by striking against Pearl Harbour, I shall tell you my truth. My side of the story, so to speak. The Sahar Dynasty and UNA allows great freedom but the ISI still deems certain knowledge to be rather dangerous, don't you? The war was a disaster and never should have occurred. The Rafzakael Requiem, while necessary, could have been avoided and never should have occurred, no matter the strengthening of the Sahar Dynasty, the Rahai and humanity for it. .

And as you'd know by now, the truth has 3 edges to it: my side, the contrary side and then the objective facts. I present my personal narrative to you. The Rafzakael Requiem was my greatest failure. Preventing it should have been my job but I overlooked it for the more immediate threat. I looked to Britannia when I should have looked within.

**Why would you consider it your greatest failure?**

It was on the eve of a Golden Age in 2023. As you know by now, at the time we had set up remote outposts and science stations as well as geofronts on Mars, Mercury, Venus, the Jovian Moons and Pluto. We had also set up colonies and research facilities on Chiron and in the Cerulean Sea region of the Perseus Spiral Arm of the Galaxy, as well as the Karnataka Cluster in the Sagittarius Spiral Arm, those volume of space which are currently our economic growth engines. The Sahar Dynasty, Rahaiamar and Rahaimarikh origins as trans-universal refugees are well known by now so I need not elaborate on that. Suffice to say, that was a shock to the world when it was revealed. The world adapted of course.

But we intended to integrate ourselves into society slowly. And that means for us over the course of centuries, over multiple generations.

Humanity has a problem with accepting outsiders who bring great change. Fear is a constant, as is stupidity. And given the longevity of the Rahai peoples, as well as their overall superiority both physically and mentally compared to an average baseline human, we wanted to avoid being seen as a Master Race. We wanted to be in partnership with humanity and eventually impart our knowledge as gift. Naturally, I was a man who took the gifts offered, hence my comparatively long life.

The Rafzakael Requiem destroyed any chance of a Golden Age at the time and set back the plans of Altair by several centuries, at least 7 generations of human lives...so at least 175 years, with each generation being 25 years. The reforms he [Altair Sahar] had in place and instituted after usurping his mother [Ashima Sahar I] were shattered and the sorcerous wards put in place to contain and quarantine the various extra-normal entities and forces, to prevent intrusion into our universe, were destroyed.

The ethnic conflict and clash of civilisations that Altair sought to avoid, and nearly succeeded in doing so, were instigated by the civil war, helped along by agencies from Britannia, the Middle East Federation and China. Even now, those countries who remain independent of the UNA and the Sahar Dynasty tend to display anti-psychic paranoia and often deport or abuse their psychic minorities. That is negligible now though, after what the Sahar Dynasty and Rafzakael did to the last country that massacred its people and abused its population. Rafzakael exist to save humanity from itself, like the Sahar Dynasty.

And the Rafzakael Requiem, more than the Zero Requiem, destroyed any chance of a lasting detente between the Britannian imperial remnants and the rest of the world in my lifetime. I wished my legacy to be one of being a peacemaker. I ended up leaving a legacy as conqueror and master of assassination. It also destroyed the lives of the few men I respected – Altair Uren Sahar, Fhajad Sorentho Sahar and Lelouch Lamperouge foremost among them. We would have reconciled and assimilated the Britannians given time, peacefully co-opting them as the Chinese have done to every invader. They gave us no choice but to participate in their unmaking.

**I am confused. Wasn't Lelouch Lamperouge a political adversary? In your own words you admitted to an intense hatred for him**.

I was younger then and somewhat short-sighted. I distrusted him intensely and felt that his appointment to within the inner circles was a...mistake. A miscalculation of the highest order and an example of the undue influence of the Diamond Lotus Society. I felt him a political appointment and an imposition of their influence onto Rafzakael. It was only years later that he and I came to a truce. I hated him, make no mistake. I disliked him intensely and broke several of his bones in a fight we once had. But I did respect him.

**A review of records indicated that you ordered him assassinated and that you signed an order for his assassination, as well as the implantation of an arcanomagnetically confined antimatter bomb within his brain. Wasn't that rather - **

Extreme, yes. Necessary and a characteristic of our thoroughness and paranoia? Precisely. My dear girl, I was the goddamn Director-General of the Imperial Services Intelligence (ISI) and a member of the Imperial Council, as well as an associate of the Diamond Lotus Society. I had contingencies for executing each and every single individual, myself included in case I was subverted in some manner, psychic, arcane or otherwise. I still have multiple psi shields and psychic safeguard installed in my mind. Any knowledge I have is maintained in vaults that only the Imperial Council has access to.

You do not survive among the Altairic Court, or any political system for that matter, just by trusting in the goodness of people. Times were dangerous then and given his past actions and the influence of the Diamond Lotus Society upon him, I saw a necessity to ensure...cooperation from him and from them. I needed leverage upon him and acted to gain that.

And I did eventually rescind the assassination order at the last moment. The bomb surgically implanted in him remained though. He was far too valuable and dangerous to leave alone. As I said, I was paranoid. I still am. I actually have a small nuclear bomb currently buried beneath this townhouse.

[**Awkward silence fills the room. The Mhextlan Adepts and Imperial Kshatriya who is standing as silent as a statue just outside peers in before Khalid bursts into peals of laughter. They withdraw back to their post, their body language somewhat tense].**

I apologise my dear. Most people cannot handle my sense of humour. Go ahead, ask me the next question. I don't bite. Unless you want me to.

**[Interviewer clears her throat and ignores the offer]**

**Why did you fear the Diamond Lotus Society so much? While they tend to be secretive about what they do and as a group prefer not to reveal too much information about themselves, what was it about them that inspired so much fear in you?**

You must remember that I'm a career spy. In the espionage game the Imperial Services Intelligence is the grand master. A supreme grand master if I do say so myself. Ask anyone from the UIS and the other agencies, including Rafzakael Intelligence Services, the Diamond Lotus, the Sahar Imperial Internal Security Force, the Singapore Security & Intelligence Division, the Black Tiger Praetorians and the Imperial Security Agency. They'll tell you pretty much the same thing about our status as the grand master of the intelligence game. Hell, many of their founders and pioneer personnel were recruited and vetted by me.

The Diamond Lotus Society is a professional rival that helps to keep our skills sharp, but their purpose is the collection and analysis of information, of the facts, and of intervention based upon oracular insight and computer-modelled forecasts of social change. That is my profession as well. However the same data can give rise to different conclusions.

I feared their leadership: Alamgir Nentanyahu and Rania Sabri. Alamgir Nentanyahu was the only man who was as good as, if not better than me in terms of espionage. The same goes for Miguel de Silva. These two men were as intelligent as me, and they did have a certain pride to themselves, an awareness of their abilities as well as their limitations – something that their immortality only enhanced. They had a breadth of experience I could counter only with the aid of Altair Sahar as my lord.

They also abided by a certain code of conduct and refused to treat people as tools. They believed in maintaining a certain moral code. I had no such...compunctions. They believed in justice, in protecting the innocent from the guilty, no matter how powerful the guilty may be. The concept of justice changes depending on where you stand however. I believe in degrees of guilt shared by every individual in society. No one is truly innocent except perhaps infants.

And lastly, the Diamond Lotus Society had a great influence on Rafzakael, whose primary leadership included Anton Maras. Even till today there are still deep links between them. Rafzakael is neutral and has maintained its status and credentials as a reliable partner to be trusted. But there are also many clandestine conflicts which no one knows about. I can assure you that many times in the past century a covert "War of Assassins" has occurred, in order to avert a greater conflict. The players are concealed and not at large but you can make an educated guess. Think of who is capable of that. There are supremacists who wish to see the Rahai as overlords within the Altairic Court and UNA-affiliated states who support clandestine terrorist actions to instigate and intimidate.

Really, we are all kept together despite our diversity of difference by the fact that the Imperial Kshatriya, Mhextlan Adepts and Rafzakael can and will take punitive actions to prevent inciting another conflict. Though in the case of the IK they are just as likely to annihilate the troublemaker.

**You haven't explained your fear of Rania Sabri.**

Ah. That woman...what a _woman_. A lady of elegance, class and poise. An exquisite lover who could bring you to heights of carnal pleasure you barely even knew. She was the lover of Caramia Maras at some point in the past, as well as Sophie-Ann Francine Chirac, Alamgir Nentanyahu and Adilah Sahar. She was Alamgir's consort through the centuries. She was also my mentor, teacher and lover.

**Excuse me?**

[Chuckles lightly]

Didn't expect that eh? The names I listed were the only lovers she had her entire life. She was a woman who derived and enjoy the carnal pleasures of life as much as any woman who has lived at least a millennium. She was no slut but maintained a polyamorous approach to relationships. She was polyromantic. She preferred women but enjoyed relationships with men. Just me and Alamgir mostly. Till now I have no idea what she saw in me though. There were men who were far better and more compassionate than I was.

**[Interviwer blushes slightly and clears her throat – implied discomfort].That's...that's new. There were enough hints in her diaries and journals. But never an outright confirmation. She was a very private person, even in her journals. **

And now I confirm them. I was also a lover of Alamgir Netanyahu. He went by another name at the time though. And yes, I am heterosexual but well...things happened and I was 29 at the time I engaged in a homosexual relationship with him. It did not last but it did leave a lasting impression upon me. Alamgir himself was asexual but could enjoy the experience.

I loved Rania more than anyone else though. She...well, if things had been different, I would have loved to marry that woman and settle down. I would have dearly loved to have children but I'll leave that to any ghola of mine to do. Rania loved one individual far more than she could have ever loved Alamgir or me.

The love that developed in the relationships we had was conditional, as in all adult and adolescent relationships – a hard fact of life we all learn but fail to acknowledge in those silly romance movies produced by Hollywood. But she unconditionally loved one person - her surrogate son. Navin Chirac. Yes – the infamous commander of Rafzakael and the father of the current Imperator. Lover of Adilah Sahar, Kallen Kozuki-Chirac and Tanya Al-Asad, my adopted daughter. The Butcher of Dubai and Hero of Russia. His fate was tragic...but at least he died happy. Kallen Kozuki. He was the fortress of her heart and mind. She was the fortress of his soul. The Russian side of the conflict...that is a whole story unto itself. Rania had her own part in that.

Because of my love for Rania, I developed an..._emotional vulnerability_. A weak point. She was the love of my life and she knew it. It was a consummate love I held for her. I did things for her I would never have done for anyone else. And she exploited that. It is because of this that I feared her. I am by my nature a casual killer. My loyalty to the Sahar Dynasty and the Imperator is absolute and unquestionable. She was the one person I could never kill. And believe me...I tried.

[Pause. Khalid Al-Asad drinks some water.]

Ah...could we move on to a different topic? I am prepared to discuss Rania later on but talking about certain subjects makes me...uncomfortable. Indulge an old man please? It brings backs memories. Both the sweet and the bitter.

**Certainly Khalid. Moving on, what in your opinion were the major factions of the conflict, their motivations and their agenda? Could there ever have been a negotiated peace?**

[At this point Khalid smiles dangerously.]

There could never have been a negotiated peace between the Sahar Dynasty and the traitors, as well as the Britannian Imperialists, De Dios and the Kyoto Purists. The Dynasty as a whole lost its collective sanity after the atrocities inflicted upon it. The Britannian Imperialists should never have taken the path they took. It was stupid, it was ill-advised and it was a gamble. It failed spectacularly and as a result, the Britannian Empire is for all purposes extinct, as are the Sunni Muslims, De Dios and the Sahar Insurrectionists.

I was a devout Muslim once, but Allah reigns in heaven. In this physical material plane of existence, we do what we can to coexist in a life of physical tyranny where all are suffering in their own way. In this plane, power belongs to ourselves and the people who lead us.

I was given a choice. I chose the tangible over the intangible. I chose to maintain and preserve my honour and loyalty through service to the Sahar Dynasty and my relationships with my people over my ideology to Allah.

So in summary, the primary actors who incited the entire Rafzakael Requiem were the Al-Saud Family in collusion with the Salafi and Wahhabi clergy through the Middle East, as well as the Kyoto Purists of Japan who originated from rogue Sumeragi household members led by Tohdoh, the Britannian Imperialists under the command of Schneizel el Britannia and Hera Manos, De Dios under the leadership of Tuathal de Britannia, that mad, deluded clone, and the Sahar Insurrectionists. The fulcrum throughout it were the Sahar Insurrectionists who were responsible for assassinating Altair Uren Sahar.

As for a negotiated peace...after the assassinations of their beloved Imperator, the one man who held them together and unified them, as well as instituted the reforms that have shaped the world into the place it is today for the better, the destruction of the arcane seals that held back the threat from beyond, the contamination and defiling of the nascent Worldspirit and the Worldmind, the deaths of half their entire population, the unleashing of a arcanonanoworm and nanovirus plague that rendered people into literal zombies, etcetera – do you think that the Sahar Dynasty was even inclined to discuss surrender options? Do you think the Europeans, Africans and South Americans were inclined to discuss nothing but unconditional surrender?

We did attend negotiations with the Britannian Imperialists in Geneva. But we all know how that turned out. Geneva is only just being restored to what it was, the radiation from the blast finally cleansed. After that, the UNA and the Sahar Dynasty saw no need for negotiation of anything short of an unconditional surrender. Hell, the destruction of Mecca is entirely the fault of De Dios. The Al-Saud Family tried and failed to blame that on us but if you blow up the most sacrosanct and holy shrine of a religion and contaminate it with nuclear radiation, even as your sworn enemies who supposedly persecuted you defended it? That removed any moral justification for the entire Islamic world.

**What do you think the Rafzakael Requiem had upon Islam as a whole? The _umat al-mu'mimin?_**

[Khalid drops his grin and becomes pensive. He closes his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. He opens his eyes, looking tired as he speaks]

I'm still here. Those who allied with the Sahar Dynasty as still here. Far too many of my fellow believers in Allah are ash and dust in a wasteland of their own making, leaving behind nothing but a legacy of betrayal, bitter realisation of how utterly they annihilated themselves and wariness from the Sahar Dynasty whose trust I cannot promise they will regain for at least a thousand years and more.

The Indo-Muslim Rebellion had its roots in Ashima Sahar and Fhajad Sahar seeking a scapegoat and finding one in the Muslim community, in order to cover for Ashima's and then Fhajad Sorentho Sahar's genetic experiments throughout the Central Asian Steppes and their attempts at psychic suggestion and compulsion through the psi broadcast system. It was also a sign of Ashima's mental dysfunction and collapse after a breach from beyond the Kanchengjunga Gate. Their experimental use of telepathic warfare and genetic experiments on the population of the Russian Federation didn't help. Altair restored the moral standing of the Dynasty. But in the end he fell. As reconciliation, he handed over control of nearly half our nuclear arsenal to Muslim officers, as as sign of trust in them. They turned out to have sided with the Insurrectionists.

The Islamic Ummah all know that it was the Sahar Dynasty who defended Mecca and Medina, our holiest cities. It was a Muslim who betrayed the empire by initiating the thermonuclear warheads. It was a Muslim who destroyed the holiest places in our religion and denied us within my lifetime the Hajj. It was the leaders of the Al-Saud family and the damned imams who led them down that path and it was the trust placed in the Muslim commanders of our strategic arsenal and orbital defence grid that was misplaced when they chose to side with Madrogan Irgas and follow his illegitimate orders.

**[We pause, the mood is sombre. Khalid Al-Asad takes a sip of water, refilling my glass from a carafe. A sheesha is set up beside him, a mix of cannabis, opium and tobacco. He inhales it, his eyes glazing slightly before turning his attention back to me.]**

It's me who pushed to legalise the trade in cannabis and opium you know? The same with psilocybin mushrooms and salvia divinorum. Suppression of a vice leads only to its perversion, as has been proven time and time again. Education and awareness of dangers combined with moderation and state regulation limit what would otherwise be dangerous drugs.

We found it far better and more profitable to legalise and control it. The same approach applies to prostitution and its legal nature. The European Union politicians followed our track in this – though without considering the cultural implication and the need for balance between individual liberties and societal welfare. Democracy is good and bad. In some cultures you can't really apply liberal democracy.

**But returning to the topic at hand – the main actors in the Requiem?**

Ah. De Dios was an alliance united only by the presence of that Lelouch clone, Tuathal, as a pretender to the Britannian Imperial throne. The other agencies involved at the time were from the Sahar Dynasty - the Imperial Kshatriya Custodians who revolted against Altair, the Rahai supremacists and the Muslim rebels whom they aligned themselves with to form the Sahar Insurrectionists.

The final piece of that puzzle was presence of the Kyoto Purifiers, the Japanese rebels who had their roots in the former Japanese military as well as the Japanese supremacists from the Sumeragi Family and the others from the Six Houses of Kyoto – the Kirihara, Sumeragi, Kubouin, Munakata, Tatsunori and Kururugi. Their surviving members are currently in the..."custody" of Order of Usul.

The true leader and unifying force of the entire rebellion and collection of belligerents was the Commander-General of the Imperial Kshatriya Custodians, Madrogas Irfan – the lover of Ashima Sahar. He was the architect and subverted a member of the Diamond Lotus – the main one being Amshel Goldsmith, the adoptive father of Hera Manos. It was with no small measure of arcane methods and psychic domination that we know he was shaped and twisted to fulfill his agenda, misdirected and misguided. Amshel did his level best to provide us with information, actually being an informant in his more lucid moments, when his fractured personality could think rationally. He never wanted what he said he wanted. He was a racist and a prejudiced man, but no mass murderer.

**What about the Britannian **_**dramatis personae**_**?**

Hera Manos, the Consort Royal of then Prime Minister Schneizel, was the major instigator on the Britannian side of things as we all know now. Her execution was swift and brutal when she was discovered. The Britannians at the time were divided into the Federalists, the Imperialists and the Loyalists camps.

Cornelia led the Federalists and as a result, you have the North American Confederation, with everything east of the Rocky Mountains and south of the Niagara Line and the Great Lakes was granted to them, excepting Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona & Nevada, as a reward for their non-interference and neutrality. There the Royal House of Britannia survives. The regions of New York, Washington and Columbia, as well as everything north of the Great Lakes are UNA states aligned with us.

The Imperialists were obviously the ones who supported Hera and Schniezel's attempts at resurrecting the dominance of the Britannian Empire and return to the Darwinian Socialism that Charles vi Britannia espoused. Obviously, Tuathal was their figurehead. But given the eventual fate of the Imperialist faction...well – as I said, when the collective sanity of the Sahar Dynasty was shattered at the Battle of Mecca, a Pyrrhic victory was gained by the Britannian Imperialists and Muslim elements of De Dios. Or is that a Cadmean victory? They could tolerate the atrocities and restrained themselves after the Tokyo Devastation, the Rain of Fire and the Antarctic Devastation. But the aftermath of the Battle of Mecca is what changed the nature of the war.

In the aftermath of it, the Imperial Kshatriya, Clan Kshatriya and Imperial Kalkazajunayd of the Rahai Clans outside Earth finally broke through the Kessler blockade and psionic barrier of Earth and reinforced the forces on Earth. This was the turning point because once the Kshatriya finished neutralising the extra-normal entities around the Kanchengjunga Gate and the Singaporeans had their orbital elevator set up, the tide turned.

**At this point Khalid erupts into a coughing fit, sputtering as he chokes on his saliva. His bodyguard acknowledges the noise and attends to him, while the butler escorts us to the living room of the apartment, to wait until Khalid is settled and ready to continue the interview. We were not to know but Khalid Al-Asad had cancer at the time, a side-effect of inhaling arcanochromatic dust and other immaterial weaponry. The cancer resulting from it was treatable but for a number of reasons, he refused treatment and only underwent palliative care. **

* * *

We would continue to interview Khalid Al-Asad for a number of months, eventually coming to gain a narrative that implied a man with profound regrets. Perhaps it was a lie, a deceptive front designed to engender sympathy. I came to respect Khalid Al-Asad over the following weeks. His health got worse over the following year as the interviews continued, culminating in his death while sleeping.

My impression of him was that of a tired man with far too many regrets gained over more than 200 years of life. He expressed great bitterness and regret at many people and events, often analysing and explaining it, rationalising their actions and justifying his responses. Very often, he was correct in his evaluations of a situation – and in a way that will have historians who read the full record of his journals scampering to review their archives. He had all the aura of an extremely jaded idealist who desperately hung on to a single thread of the past – loyalty to an Imperator long dead and a dream unachieved. And perhaps regret at outliving most of his friends – his only living peer was the Commander-in-Chief of the Sahar Dynasty Imperial Legion Forces and a member of the Imperial Council, Dhamsig Shaitan Irfan.

Yet he also acknowledged that the world situation as it stood in contemporary times was far better than he could have hoped for and he had a sense of optimism for the future. He shared knowledge about events past and present, of his hopes for the future and his dreams of the past. In the end I failed to reconcile this individual with the man whom my great grandparents, Anton Maras and Caramia Cecilia Maras, talked about as a respected comrade and adversary. There was a great depth to him that I failed to understand or comprehend initially. He was a man who bore his sins openly and yearned to share his experience with others so that none may go through the hell he endured. My great grandfather talked of a brutally cunning individual that for all his ruthlessness and amoral nature still had a heart of gold hidden deep within, whom he respected, despite everything

But he was also a ruthless man responsible for countless deaths and assassinations for the sake of the "Greater Good", of keeping the UNA and Sahar Dynasty together by fighting the various secessionists, insurgents and rebels who opposed the world coming together under a single body – despite all its obvious benefits. The UNA has been the best things that could have happened to humanity, if one takes things into a balance. Then again...people said much the same about Lelouch Lamperouge and his Zero Requiem.

* * *

**Zammit, A. (2183). Assessment of Strategic Strengths of the Sahar Dynasty Prior to and During World War 3. Sydney Publishers, Syndey, Australia. [Extract]**

A clear division must be made between the Sahar Dynasty as a civilisation-state and the various nation-states, nation-worlds and other political entities – polities- that it deals with. In the current world order, they act as a hegemon, much like the Britannian Empire and Chinese Imperialist Federation of the 20th and 21st centuries of the Common Era. However, unlike these older superpowers, it is a benevolent hegemon, and will continue to do so for the forseeable future, due to the stability of the current political ecology in place.

Much as in the past, the strategic strengths of the Sahar Dynasty past and present are overwhelming and cannot be concisely summarised due to the number of different advantages they have as a whole. But this discussion will be restricted primarily to their capabilities during the Rafzakael Requiem on Earth, disregarding their assets and technology based outside of the Sol System at the time.

The advantages which had most relevance in World War 3 and the Rafzakael Requiem, concurrent historical events, were their ability to predict enemy actions through their psychic precognition; their mastery of oceanic and underground engineering and construction; highly secure and encrypted data networks; an ability to maintain an extensive global transport network through use of Sachdev-Kaku Phase Gates and a superbly efficient industrial base that utilised bionanotechnology and industrial fusion nucleosynthesis.

Their psychic precognition and remote viewing capabilities were and are a key strategic advantage, as they could then dictate the tactical and operational actions of the war, influencing the overall strategic picture. It was this ability to collect and analyse superior information, without compromising their own security, that ultimately allowed them to triumph over the many belligerents of World War 3 and impose their peace.

The stated mastery of oceanic and subterranean engineering was also another key advantage. Despite the catastrophic alpha strike launched by the combined De Dios, Britannian Imperialist and Sahar Insurrectionists that resulted in the deaths of approximately half the population of the subcontinent at the time, as well as the destruction of key arcologeies, geo-fronts, aquacities and undercities, it was their underground and submarine infrastructure that saved them. Designed and overengineered to be resilient, there were multiple hidden caches, bunkers and fortresses to which the Loyalists and the founding elements of Rafzakael and the UFN could retreat to and coordinate their response. Much like the Japanese Resistance, they were able to exploit and expand their tunnel network throughout the war, by virtue of the TBM (Tunnel Boring Machines) and subterrenes, nuclear-powered tunnelling machines. The naval superiority provided by their submarine bases and network of oceanic rigs served to allow for a fallback point as well.

Their Sachdev-Kaku Phase Gates allowed for a short, highly efficient logistical trains with no vulnerabilities. To disrupt such a secure logistics trains would have required penetration of their secure facilities and data networks which regulated the network. Throughout the entire conflict, their portal network was never compromised. The distributed nature of covert military outposts and caches, bound together by such a network, required that their enemies split their forces and assault multiple strongholds which were never breached throughout the course of the war, requiring thermonuclear, chemical, biological, radiological, micromechanical and nanomechanical weapons to overcome. Of course, the use of such methods often invited a retaliatory nuclear response from the Sahar Dynasty.

Finally, their use of bionanotechnology and decentralised 3-dimensional printing allowed for localised production and and fabrication facilities on nearly every ship and base, allowing for the localised manufacture of materiel, allowing for greater self-sufficiency and extended operations. Very often, this was a key advantage in allowing their forces to endure in the field for longer than their adversaries. Tactics of 'persistence hunting', in combination with guerilla tactics and unconventional warfare that disrupted their supply lines and C5I assets, as well as an attrition based strategy, allowed them to ultimately drain De Dios and the Sahar Insurrectionists of their vitality.


End file.
